


This Is Going to Happen

by Kitty_KatAllie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Spanish, Complete, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Spamano. Lovino is tired of being trapped by his own desire for the Spaniard he'd known since childhood. It was time to take action, take what he wanted, and get the h**l over it, right? But when did desire become less than enough?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Six Years Later

This Is Going to Happen

Chapter One

Six Years Later

Lovino was not pleased. Actually, that didn’t even come close to how pissed off he was right now. He was livid- enraged- _outright humiliated_.

“But how do you _know_ that you’re gay if you’ve never _tried it_ , Lovi?” Feliciano, his ridiculously stupid baby brother, continued to press with that too-eager, too-innocent face.

“Cuz I know, all right? Shut up!” Lovino hissed as he slammed coats to the side.

His brother, the ridiculously stupid one, was currently questioning his sexuality while _shopping_ in his all-time _favorite_ clothing department. If anyone overheard this, he would never be able to come back and he would have to kill his brother. As much as he acted differently, he did love the insufferable idiot, and he really didn’t _want_ to kill his brother. However, if Feli kept talking, Lovino would have no choice but to bring out the stilettos (and not those stylish, red-leather ones preening in the window either).

“How do you know you’re straight, huh? You’re just born that way, okay? Now, please, in the name of all that’s Holy, shut the hell up!” Lovino added quickly. He was distracted by the black suede, half-sleeved coat his hand fell upon. “Hey, Feli, check out this one.”

“Ve~ So handsome, but why not try the green one? It makes your eyes look darker,” Feli pulled out an identical forest-green one.

Lovino gulped and looked down at the black one again. “No… the black one will go better with those new boots I bought in the last shop,” he murmured, trying not to remember a pair of green eyes.

“If you say so. Anyhow~ who says I’m straight? I like to look at pretty ladies, but I didn’t really like touching Carlita’s breasts like I thought I would. I kept thinking about that new issue of _Vogue_ , too. I shouldn’t be thinking about fashion if I’m touching a lady’s breasts. Oh, Lovi, I like this one! Look, it’s blue! I love blue!” Feliciano exclaimed happily as he pulled out a cashmere poncho a few clothing racks away.

Lovino was still at the coat rack, gaping in horror and shock and confusion. _How can Feliciano just jump from topic to topic like that!?_ Lovino wondered as he hurried to Feliciano’s side.

He grabbed the poncho, slammed it back on the rack, and glared down at Feli, the free-standing curse of a curl crinkling over his right eyebrow.

“You don’t go running around a fucking clothing store asking if people are gay or talking about fucking tits, all right?” Lovino snarled as a woman walked by nonchalantly. Luckily, she hadn’t overheard them.

“But… ever since you moved out into your own place, we never meet up to really talk except while shopping, Lovi. Where else can I talk to you about this?” Feli whined, tears coming to his lashes.

Feliciano always seemed to be walking around the world with his eyes closed, literally and figuratively. Maybe Feliciano preferred the smaller view. Maybe opening his eyes and seeing the wide world around him frightened him, so looking through his highly narrowed view kept him in perspective, kept him sane? Who knew. Lovino had obviously spent too much time studying for that philosophy test. He rubbed his forehead and slowly the tension created by embarrassment leaked out his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. But I don’t talk about this shit well. I come shopping to fuckin’ relax, not talk about sex and boobs,” Lovino told Feliciano. Feli lit up, his terror-slash- sorrow gone in an instant.

“How about over coffee?”

“HELL NO!”

Lovino felt the sweat gather on his forehead as his voice echoed throughout the store.

“Sometimes, I really hate you, Feli.” Lovino muttered as the store manager made her way towards them.

“Sorry, Lovi.”

 

Luckily, Lovino and Feliciano were both well-known and (in Feli’s case) well-loved customers. After profuse apologies and promises never to be so loud or vulgar again, the boys were able to continue shopping and Feli had dropped the personal questions. However, Lovino knew his brother would bring it up again until his curiosity was satiated. After that last observation by Feliciano, Lovino was a little curious himself about Feli’s love life.

They settled into their usual seats at the usual coffee shoppe laden with bags a few hours later. Lovino ordered black espresso, Feliciano ordered his double-chocolate mocha with extra whipped cream, and both ordered strawberry cake with white icing and extra strawberry syrup. As everything was placed before them, the bags were set neatly out of the aisle, and the waiter a discreet distant away, Lovino brought it up.

“All right, what’s this about Carlita?” Lovino prompted in a long-suffering voice. Feliciano broke into a wide grin, completely oblivious to the large amount of whipped cream on his face.

“Well, we went out on a date. I like her well enough, she’s very pretty, very nice, ve~ But… Well…” Feliciano blushed lightly and dipped his finger into the whipped cream on his mocha absently. He sucked off the cream, then leaned on his elbow and sighed. “Nothing, Lovi. No reaction. We kissed, we even petted a little, like I said before, but I just wasn’t hot inside at all. I have always like the way a boy looks, but I like the way girls look, too, so I never thought anything of it. Am I gay, Lovi?” Feliciano asked with a pathetically conflicted look on his face.

“How am I supposed to fucking know?” Lovino snapped. He knew his face was bright red. He just didn’t _do_ these kinds of conversations. In an effort to help though, since his baby brother _was_ conflicted, Lovino calmed himself down and sipped his espresso as he considered it. His face was a still a little red, but when he set down his tiny espresso cup, he felt calm enough to speak. “Just because you weren’t attracted to Carlita, doesn’t mean you’re gay. Carlita is a slut anyway.” He ignored Feliciano protests. “However, if you think you’re _more_ attracted to boys, why don’t you try _looking_ at one better? Just look at one you think is attractive and see _how_ attractive you think he is. Can you…” Lovino broke off, crossing his arms over his chest protectively as his discomfort increased. “Can you imagine k-kissing him, or t-touching him, I guess. And what happens if you do?”

“Ve~ You’re so smart, Lovino! I knew you could help me!” Feliciano cried happily, this time the tears gathering those of joy.

“It doesn’t take a genius to come up with a plan like that,” Lovino muttered, not totally unpleased from the praise.

“Oh, I got a postcard from big brother Francis a couple days ago.” Feliciano remembered. He searched through the brown leather knapsack that Lovino bought him on his last birthday. It was flat and square and not quite “purse-y” enough to cause any sort of derision. Feliciano loved it and had already ruined it by sewing stupid little patches all over it. Most of them had funny little sayings, but some were flowers or hearts. He even had little kitten buttons on it. He pulled free the said-postcard.

“He _is not our fucking brother_ ,” Lovino growled, but he snatched the postcard from Feliciano’s out-stretched hand anyway. He read the ridiculously loopy and overly feminine handwriting with a scowl. His scowl darkened further. “We’re meeting him _tonight_?” Lovino yelled at Feli. His brother cringed.

“I-Is is t-tonight? I thought it was tomorrow… ve~”

“You _dumbass_. Shit, shit! He said the _old friends_ may be there. What the hell am I supposed to wear last minute like this?” Lovino almost shrieked, gripping his perfectly cut and arranged hair and digging into his scalp with his fingernails. “I can’t go, I can’t. What if- damn it, I can’t _not_ go, ‘cause if … shit.” Lovino slumped into his seat and let his forehead slam on the table. “God, I hate you so much.”

“I d-don’t understand!” Feliciano wailed, having barely managed to save Lovino’s cake and coffee by pulling them away. “It’s just big brother Francis and probably Gilbert! Maybe even Anto-”

“Like hell that tomato-bastardo will be here! He hasn’t shown his ugly-ass mug in six fucking years,” Lovino snapped angrily. Feliciano flinched. Lovino sighed. “Sorry.”

Feliciano nodded and put a spoonful of strawberry cake in his mouth, sniffling. Lovino straightened himself and looked at the card. “His writing is kinda sloppy, so I’ll let it go this time. And we _did_ just go shopping.”

“You’ll wear that new coat right? It makes you look so sleek. Even if the green would’ve been better, the black makes you look sexy,” Feliciano smiled happily, glad that Lovino had forgiven him so easily for his mishap.

“Yeah, sure… sexy…” Lovino took a bite of his own rescued cake with a pensive frown. _If only_ …

.

The postcard Francis had sent hadn’t been too specific about who would be there, but he had been about the bar, time, and dress code. There was always a dress code for the Parisian-born Frenchman. Francis wasn’t really related to them, obviously. His father and their mother had been good friends, maybe even lovers though they never outright said so, in their college years at Oxford in England. Even though they had been separated by distance, married other people, and had children with their separate spouses, they had remained good friends until the day Francis’s father had died. Francis had barely been thirteen, Lovino nine, and Feliciano eight, when Francis had moved with them. His mother hadn’t been in the picture since he was less than a year old.

With Francis had come his school buddies he had made. His father had been a shiftless wanderer and had taken his little boy around Europe with him. Francis had enjoyed and to this day thanked his father for the rootless days of his youth. He swore he appreciated culture so much the better for it and knew at least five languages fluently. The two school buddies he’d made had been Gilbert Beilschmidt and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, a German (though Gilbert told everyone he was Prussian through and through like his great-grandfather had been) and a Spaniard, respectively. The three of them had been in the same boarding school in Germany, on the border of France. Antonio because his father was a wine merchant whose business had recently expanded into that region and Gilbert because his younger brother was so ill that Gilbert was sent to a boarding school just to be out of the way.

They had been inseparable since their first day of classes.

Lovino hated them all. Francis had constantly made lewd jokes and liked to dress him and Feli like girls. Gilbert used to play practical jokes on them, normally with stupid booby traps like trip wire and oil-slicked floors. Other times, Gilbert would tell them spooky stories and then dress up like the ghosts or monsters and jump out at them, only to laugh that stupid annoying ‘kesesesese’ laugh when they screamed, or worse, wet themselves. And Antonio…

Lovino adjusted his purple gauze scarf with its fashionable tassel irritably. It was early June now and Rome was hot and humid. It was around this time in the year that Lovino missed their family’s home up in Venice. He refused to go back, though. He was sick of home. He wanted to see more of Italy, and hopefully, more of the world. He didn’t want to be stuck in his rich-boy bubble, unlike Feliciano who didn’t care any which way. Lovino moved down to Rome for college two years ago, Feliciano following soon after like Lovino had thought he would. He stayed long enough in their family’s southern villa just long enough to settle in Feliciano before he got a place of his own. Sure, his parents still transferred money into his account, which he used for his ridiculously expensive clothes, but his rent, utilities, and food were all covered by his own meager income working at a sandwich and coffee restaurant not far from campus. He liked the independence, his tiny flat in the middle of bustling downtown, the beat-up old bike he used to go to and from work, and the anonymity. He wasn’t a _Vargas_. He was Lovino, the waiter, the barista, the cute boy next door to the blind old lady, the young man that grew tomatoes on his tiny iron balcony and cooked pasta every Thursday night for his little brother while they sang old Italian songs from the seventies. It was nice.

It didn’t make the humidity any more bearable, however. Especially since his tiny apartment in “old town” Rome had a majorly dysfunctional A/C.

Anyhow, Lovino was stalling. Stalling hard. Even Feliciano was looking confused now. They were at the right bar, it was the right time, and they were both dressed in their casual-fashionable best. So why was he still standing across the street?

Because Lovino was not ready. Not ready to see him if he was there. Not ready to be disappointed when he _wasn’t_ there _again_. For the sixth year in a row. Lovino couldn’t keep Feliciano waiting much longer, though. He was surprised Feli had held back as long as he had. It was probably because he’d already pissed Lovino off so badly earlier that Feli had been able to keep his questions to himself a little longer than usual. So, Lovino squared his shoulders, cursed at the universe in general in his mind, and began to walk briskly across the street, his slightly-heeled black boots clipping against the cobbles. Feliciano hurried to catch up.

Lovino pushed open the bar door and looked over the usual crowd. Being taller than Feliciano by at least an inch made it easier for him than for Feli. He spotted a mass of bright hair in the far corner. Most Italians were dark-haired, so that many blondes in a corner meant one thing.

“Found them.” Lovino sighed, almost disappointed. If only he could’ve used his inability to locate the group as an excuse. Damn Francis for using a more native-oriented bar. It wasn’t half-so crowded with summer tourists.

He led Feliciano through the crowd, holding him tightly by the hand. Even at nineteen years old, Feliciano could get lost in a crowded room and actually _cry_ until Lovino found him. Or until he found some pretty girl to flirt with. Tonight, though, little Feli might be flirting with a boy if he took Lovino’s advice. _Mother is going to fucking kill me if she finds out. She was counting on Feli for grandkids._

As they neared the end of the bar where the group was gathered, Feliciano tugged back on Lovino’s hand. When Lovino looked over his shoulder, amber eyes vaguely annoyed and confused, he saw the stupidest look on Feli’s face. It was as if someone had just punched the boy in the forehead. His face was pink, his mouth a perfect ‘o’ of surprise, his chestnut brown eyes actually open wide.

“Lovi, Lovi, ve~ Do you see him? He’s _beautiful._ I’ve never seen anyone like him before. Lovi, Lovi, look!” Feliciano urged, tucking himself against Lovino’s side and pointing ahead. Lovino turned back towards the group, where he’d been headed before Feli stopped him, and saw a rather familiar but completely unrecognizable figure. The young man Feli was pointing at was _huge_. Well, maybe not, like, monstrous, but _big_. Broad shoulders, heavy arms, square jaw, hair as blonde as an angel’s, piercing, narrowed blue eyes. Lovino whistled.

“Well, if you’re gay, you sure know how to pick ‘im. That’s as manly as they get. And definitely not _my_ type, thank God. Though… if he’s built proportional…” Lovino laughed out loud as Feliciano punched his shoulder.

“Ah~ Hark, what dulcet and dear tones I hear? Is this _Lovino_ laughing like an angel come to life?”

Lovino bristled at that mocking, sultry voice as goosebumps spread up his spine. “Oh, damn, I knew I shouldn’t’ve come. You haven’t changed at all, you fucking perv,” Lovino grumbled as Francis leapt from his barstool and flung himself on the shorter Italians.

“I haven’t seen my dear, sweet, little brothers in so long! Don’t tell me you haven’t missed me even a little, _mon ami_?” Francis pleaded, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter as he pulled back and looked down at them.

“Fuck no.”

“I have! I’ve missed you, big brother Francis!”

“Ah, my light, my life, my darling!” Francis cried happily, snuggling the gaily laughing Feliciano close as Lovino struggled to get away.

“Oi! Francis, the drinks are up.” Gilbert called out as glasses slid down the bar. The big blonde was sitting next to Gilbert, that vague resemblance in their faces.

Lovino’s eyes slowly began to widen, in horror, in shock, in wild, euphoric hope. If that big German blonde was who Lovino thought he was…

His feet automatically began to back up, his flight-mode raging in his mind as the unsuspecting Francis and Feliciano turned to the bar.

_I can’t, I really can’t, he can’t be here… oh shit, I have to-_

He spun on his heel and stopped. Coming from the front doors in all his mocha-skinned, chocolate-haired, and emerald-eyed glory was _him_. The reason he was gay. The reason he woke up sweaty and unspent and aching every morning for the past seven years. Those long legs, that slender waist, the curve of his ass when he turned sideways to get through a particularly thick crowd of people, that wide, cheerful, blazing smile. _Oh sweet Mother Mary, help me._ Lovino’s mouth was dry before those green eyes even caught his.

Emerald eyes darkened, the smile faltered, and time stopped for a single breathless moment. There was a war of emotions in that dark face, in those brilliant eyes. He looked stunned, as breathless as Lovino felt, joy, confusion, and maybe… was that longing? Lovino took a step forward. And then a cry of joy, God he _really_ hated that idiot sometimes, broke the heavy stillness.

“ _Antonio!_ ” Feliciano exclaimed, racing past Lovino, right into Antonio’s automatically outstretched arms. That insipid, stupid grin was back on Antonio’s face and Lovino’s chest constricted. He was lifting Feli up into air, at least two inches off the ground, and snuggling his face into Feli’s auburn hair. “It’s been so long, Tonio! Ve, ve~ Why did you stay away so long!”

“Aw, why wasn’t I greeted like that?” Francis pouted from Lovino’s side.

“Maybe because Feli saw you at Easter at my damn parents’ house just a couple fucking months ago, you moron,” Lovino snapped at Francis. Francis, used to Lovino’s vulgarity and instant inexplicable anger, sighed sadly.

“This must be the reason. How true. How regrettable. I could never stay away from the Vargas family so long as six years. My heart would break without you lovely people.”

“Mine wouldn’t,” Lovino mumbled. Antonio had finally put Feliciano down and was grinning over at Francis and Lovino.

“Lovi, _mi corazon_ , don’t you want a hug, too? Didn’t you miss me all these years?”

“Like hell I did. And don’t call me Lovi,” Lovino choked out, blushing brightly as Antonio so neatly invaded his personal space.

He was getting dizzy. He was going to faint. God, Antonio smelled even better than he remembered. Like sunshine and Spanish spices and chocolate, of course, chocolate. He wanted to eat the Spaniard up, lick every-

Lovino broke off his thoughts and stumbled backwards. “What the hell are you doing back, huh?”

Antonio’s mouth fell down, eyes pained. Feliciano was still tucked up under his arm, grinning like an idiot and looking over at Lovino like he’d lost his mind.

“Lovi, it’s _Antonio!_ It’s all right to muss up your pretty clothes for _Antonio_ ,” Feliciano assured him.

“Like I need your damn permission to wrinkle my clothes! You don’t give a damn ab-ab-Arg!” In the middle of his sentence, Antonio had released Feliciano and swooped Lovino up into a hug, his face buried in the curve of Lovino’s neck. “PUT ME DOWN, YOU FUCKING BASTARDO!” Lovino screamed, wriggling and kicking, his face boiling in embarrassment. Behind them, Gilbert whistled and slapped the table as Francis and Feliciano cheered.

“You smell like heaven, Lovi,” Antonio whispered, his lips moving on Lovino’s skin.

Lovino’s whole body froze, the need for flight warring with melting into a puddle. That Latin drawl, those smooth lips on his skin. Six years, damn it, six years of wanting and aching and the bastard looked even better than he remembered. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Antonio’s shoulders and, for a few blissful moments, enjoyed Antonio’s embrace. Then, he kicked Antonio’s shin as hard as humanly possible.

“ _Mierde_! Why do you do this to me, _mi corazon!?_ ” Antonio cried as Lovino landed back on his feet. The tall, lean Spaniard was leaning on the bar, tears streaming down his face as he clutched at his shin. The annoyingly loud group of people was laughing uproariously behind them as Feliciano rushed forward.

“You don’t just fucking snatch people up like that, damn it!” Lovino shouted at him.

It didn’t take long for Antonio to take his place at the bar with his cronies, Feliciano and Lovino to one side. The big blonde was exactly who Lovino thought he was- Gilbert’s younger brother. Ludwig had been a very sick boy and had come to Italy for a short time when they were children after Francis had moved in with them. The Beilschmidt family, well-to-do, though not half-so wealthy as the Vargas family, had decided to move to southern Spain for their little boy’s health. He was Feliciano’s age, but both _were_ rather young, just barely between eight and nine, which would explain the lack of recognition between them. Ludwig had changed _a lot_ , too, since then. Once a slender, big-eyed boy with a sweet, shy smile to that big, muscle-bound brute with a perpetual scowl was a lot to believe. Plus, Feliciano had worn dresses a lot when he was younger (thanks to a joint effort by their insanely doting mother and Francis) and, if he remembered correctly, Francis and Gilbert had tricked the poor, sick, little boy into believing Feli was a girl. Since Feliciano couldn’t really remember what happened yesterday without difficulty and the poor Ludwig thought Feliciano had been a _Feliciana_ , it really was no wonder neither of them recognized each other. But Lovino had been just an instant too late realizing this.

He knew that the Beilschmidts had lived with the Carriedos for eleven years or so years in Spain on account of Ludwig’s health. Gilbert had moved back up to Germany to go to school in Berlin, staying with the “Prussian” side of the family for his high school years, and, being unable to afford the travel all the way to Spain every year, he would visit in Italy instead with Francis. Antonio had come up to visit Gilbert and Francis in Italy, bringing presents to Gilbert from his family, at least once every year for a number of weeks, if not months, until… six years ago.

God, how Lovino wished these memories would stop. He had pushed them back so well, for so long. Sure, they managed to get out and wreak havoc on his mind, his heart, even his body while he slept, but during the day, he had gotten so good at pretending that the color green was just the color green, not something that reminded him of Antonio’ gaze. Or that the Latino music his downstairs and to the left neighbors played didn’t remind him of the days when Antonio sang to him love songs from Spain and tried to teach him Spanish. Or that every time he ate strawberry baumkuchen, it didn’t remind him of his thirteenth birthday and the day Antonio had almost kissed him. He had. He _had_ almost kissed him, Lovino was sure of it. They had been so close he had felt Antonio’s breath on his face, had almost tasted the orange soda on Antonio’s lips.

Lovino groaned and tossed back another shot of brandy. He hated the stuff, normally he sipped wine and never got drunk because getting hangovers _sucked_ , but listening to Antonio’s musical, baritone voice with his sexy Spanish-accented English was making him crazy (normally they all used Italian, but Ludwig’s Italian was atrocious while his English was passable- besides, Antonio’s Italian had an even _worse_ effect on him). Lovino couldn’t get those vivid, nightly dreams out of his head, of Antonio whispering in that Spanish, kissing with those perfect lips…

 _I’m going to kill myself if I keep this up. This is insane! It’s been seven years since that day! I haven’t even looked at another man and yet I’m ridiculously infatuated with this one. Fuck this, I’m going home before I actually get drunk and hate myself more tomorrow_.

Lovino stood abruptly, barstool clattering loudly. The bar was loud enough that most people didn’t notice, but some of his group did. Feliciano turned, his brown eyes actually open again. Of course, that probably had to do with the potato-head German Feli had been flirting with all night. _Too bad , Mom, looks like Feli won’t be procreatin’ any time soon._ Lovino chuckled to himself and leaned down for his stool. A dark hand covered his. Burning sensation, a loud thudding of his pulse, the sharp intake of breath- did Antonio notice any of this? God, he hoped not. Lovino looked up into emerald eyes, face flushed from liquor and need.

“You going somewhere, Lovi?” Antonio asked below the noise of the bar. Lovino licked his lips quickly, mouth dry at the low, deep sound of Antonio’s voice. He could see green eyes follow his tongue, lingering on his wet lips. Suddenly, Lovino could see exactly what he looked like in Antonio’s eyes; ruffled, flushed, barely twenty, and he felt powerful with it. He knew that Antonio was bisexual (or as he said it- he didn’t care about the equipment, just about the person. Romantic, right? Whatever.).

Lovino pulled off that stifling scarf and tossed Antonio a sharp smirk. He had used it on men at gay bars and seen eyes cross. He could work it if he wanted to, so he did. It did work. Emerald eyes darkened and Lovino saw his pulse jump in his throat. 

“None of your fucking business.” With that, Lovino left the stool for Antonio to pick up, and his tab to pay, and stalked out the door with as steady a pace as he could. There was no way he would collapse with Antonio watching.

And he didn’t.

And Antonio didn’t follow.

 _He really can’t read the atmosphere, can he?_ Lovino stood on his balcony just thirty minutes later, breathing deep the heavy, rather rancid Roman air. His head was clearing, thankfully, helped along with the fresh-brewed espresso from Lovino’s own espresso maker. He sipped from his mug, ignored his cell phone beeping with texts messages from Feli, and leaned forward on his elbows.

From the little he gathered while pouring brandy down his throat, Lovino knew he had one month. One month until Antonio went back to his family’s business in Madrid. One month to seduce the older, more experienced, sexy Latino man. One month to work the damnable man out from under his skin and get on with his fucking life. And damn it, Lovino was going to do it.

He was going to enjoy every fucking second of it and so would Antonio. He would make damn sure that Antonio spent the next six years waking up in a cold sweat thinking about _Lovino,_ if it was the last thing he did.

 

 


	2. The Memories that Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly memories and fluffyness~

This Is Going to Happen

Chapter Two

The Memories that Matter

_Francis had been living in the Vargas household for the past two months. Lovino officially hated him. He hated his stupid, girly blonde hair, hated that stupid pervy laugh (Ohonhonhon), hated his flashy, gaudy clothes, and hated his constant touching- always hugging and kissing him and Feli. It was bad enough he had to endure his parents’ affection, but Francis’s too? No fucking way. Even at the tender age of nine, Lovino was very much his own foul-mouthed, easily-angered self. Lovino spent most of his time at home hiding from Francis and reading his mom’s fashion magazines. He loved the pretty clothes and shoes and models. He wanted to be a model when he was grown up, so he could walk down a catwalk wearing heels and having every look at him (but NOT touch him!). He wanted to be beautiful like his parents. If he was model, he wouldn’t have to talk anyway, just look pretty and wear pretty things. It seemed perfect to him. Nobody liked it when he talked anyway. Everyone preferred precious Feliciano with his silly way of talking and funny little stories, hell, even Lovino preferred listening to Feli than talking himself._

_This day was no different from the rest. Feli was singing to their parents somewhere, some silly love song which meant he was probably wearing a dress again. Lovino had managed to hide in time, then. Good. He flipped another page of the_ Vogue _magazine he had stolen from his mother’s mail pile, humming along with Feliciano under his breath. He had hidden outside in the garden under the living room window. There was a little mossy spot under the lilacs that Lovino had found. He had brought out a ratty old blanket, some milk, and a small tin of cookies to eat and enjoy in the early morning sunshine. He knew Francis was having a group of friends come over from his school back in France… wait, was it Germany? Or Spain? Anyway, some friends as old, stupid, and annoying as Francis most likely were coming to their house today. Lovino did not want to watch strangers once again choose Feliciano over him, look shocked when he cursed, look at him with pity compared to his sweet, innocent, baby brother. God, how he hated Feli sometimes._

_Lovino shook his head briskly. He wasn’t going to ruin his perfect day thinking about that. He loved Feliciano just as much as everyone else, just as much as he hated him, really. Lovino opened his mouth and sang softly along with Feli. It was a popular duet, and his parents often liked to hear Feli and Lovi sing it together. His father joined Feliciano in Lovino’s absence, so Lovino was following along with his father’s much deeper bass. He enjoyed singing in a deeper voice. As much as he liked pretty clothes, Lovino was very much a young boy and he hated singing in a high soprano like a girl. He drummed his fingers on the cookie tin and sang along just loud enough to hear his own voice. He didn’t hear the quiet footsteps come up the garden path._

_On the other side of the lilac bushes, a tall, gangly boy with dark brown skin stopped, brilliant green eyes wide and confused. For some reason, the lilacs were singing in a little boy’s voice. It was a very good little boy’s voice, but why were lilacs singing? A tiny brown leather boot with a wooden heel peeked out from under the purple flowers and dark brows lowered over bright eyes. He crept forward, hoping whoever was hiding in the flowers wouldn’t catch sight of his bright white T-shirt or dirty blue jeans and sneakers. He set a large duffel bag on the grass and crawled forward on his hands and knees._

_Green eyes widened seeing the boy hiding in the lilacs and singing as he flipped through a magazine. Brown hair that gleamed red in the sunlight, amber eyes with girlishly long eyelashes, a pointed chin and high cheekbones, and soft, pale skin that was naturally golden-hued. The darker, older boy felt his jaw drop, his breath trapped somewhere below his breastbone. This little boy was prettier than any girl Antonio had ever seen and he wanted to reach out and snag him up and take him away somewhere. He didn’t want anyone else to find this perfect creature he’d found, he didn’t want anyone else to even look at him. His fingers dug into the grass and suddenly, large, golden eyes looked up into his._

_That cat-like little face tilted to one side, gold eyes blinking._

_“Huh?” The little boy blurted, utterly baffled by the stranger peeking in on him. “Where the hell did you come from?” He demanded, arched eyebrows coming together in confusion and a slowly building anger. “What the hell are you staring at, damn it?! Fucking say something!”_

_In shock, Antonio burst out laughing, falling onto his butt and clutching his sides. Of course his own personal angel would have the tongue of a devil. “You are the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen,” Antonio laughed and gasped as tears gathered at his eyes._

_“Don’t fucking tease me! I hate it when people tease me! Who the hell are you- STOP FUCKING LAUGHING AT ME!” Lovino screamed, his cheeks puffing out and his face turning bright red in anger as he scowled as ferociously as his nine-year-old face could. Antonio only laughed harder as Francis and the Vargas family raced outside._

_“Antonio!_ Mon ami _, what is going on?” Francis exclaimed, blue eyes darting between the angry little boy covered in flowers and the hysterically laughing Antonio rolling on the grass._

_“Is this your friend, Antonio Carriedo?” Mrs. Vargas asked, just as confused, though her sweet pink mouth that both her sons inherited was curved upwards into a smile._

_Antonio managed to choke back further laughter and got to his feet, swept an elegant bow, and grinned up at the Vargas family. “Antonio Fernandez Carriedo at your service. I was just startled by the little elf living in your lilacs and singing.”_

_“I am NOT a fucking elf! Stop mocking me, damn it!” Lovino growled angrily. He turned on his heel as his father admonished him gently. Feliciano peeked out from behind Mr. Vargas’s leg and giggled. Amber eyes widened in surprise as arms wrapped around his waist and lifted him clear off the ground. He was tucked against Antonio’s side, seated comfortably on the older boy’s arm, with his feet dangling. He had automatically reached out to grasp Antonio’s T-shirt and was staring at him, gaping and wordless and red-faced. Antonio’s hand kept him steady at his petite waist._

_“I caught you! You’re mine now, little elf!” Antonio cried out as Feliciano clapped and laughed._

_“Me, too! Me, too!” Feliciano exclaimed, running forward and grabbing Antonio around the waist._

_“Two little elves! I am so very lucky! Look, Francis! Aren’t they cute?” Antonio grinned his insipid, stupid, senseless grin that Lovino would come to love and hate._

_Lovino blushed beet-red and wrapped his arms around Antonio’s neck tightly. It was first time he was chosen first. Even now, Antonio kept Lovino in his arms while Feliciano stood at his side._

_“Not a fuckin’ elf,” Lovino mumbled half-heartedly. Antonio just laughed and nuzzled Lovino’s hair._

Maybe it was love at first capture, because Lovino hadn’t wanted to let go all day long; even Gilbert with his little brother in tow couldn’t dampen his spirits. He never forgot that first glorious morning of being chosen.

_He was turning thirteen today. He loved birthdays. He loved being the center of everyone’s attention, even though he always got so horribly embarrassed. He loved getting presents and eating his favorite cake and choosing what he wanted for lunch. Somehow, on almost every other day, Feliciano got his way in everything. Feliciano didn’t even mean it. He just looked up with those big brown eyes and silly hopeful smile and Lovino and everyone else just sort of caved. But today, Feliciano always asked “Lovi~ is this all right? Lovi~ Do you like this? Lovi~ Lovi~ what do you want me to do now? Can I help? Can I?” And Lovino loved it._

_Currently, Feliciano was helping their parents set up the party room, a.k.a the sun parlor, Lovino’s favorite room. His mom had agreed to let him redecorate it a year ago when she redecorated the whole house. He had chosen sunny yellows and summer greens and old-fashioned cream for the colors, so it was elegant, cheerful, and stylish, his three favorite things that seemed to epitomize his mother and her two sons. To represent their father, he had chosen sturdier wood than he would’ve liked and longer-lasting fabrics. Humming tunelessly, Lovino mixed the batter for his favorite strawberry baumkuchen. He just needed to add those dried strawberries, maybe a little more sugar, and then…_

_The kitchen door that led in from the garden burst open. With a horribly embarrassing squawk of surprise, Lovino jumped a foot high and spun around, the large wooden spoon splattering pink-hued cake batter all over the kitchen and across Antonio’s chest. Antonio stood there, large box in pink and red wrapping paper in his arms, green eyes wide in surprise._

_“Lovi, I’m so sorry,” Antonio blurted as Lovino gasped for breath._

_“You scared the hell outta me, you idiot!” Lovino snapped as he slammed the mixing bowl down on the counter. He stomped towards the sink and grabbed a rag. “I got batter all over the fucking place, great,” he muttered as he ran cold water. Antonio set the box down next to the large bowl and stepped up to Lovino’s side._

_“I’ll clean up. It’s my fault,” Antonio rushed to offer. Lovino slapped his hand away when he reached for the rag._

_“Shut up. You’ll just mess shit up worse,” Lovino snarled and began to wipe the cake batter off Antonio’s T-shirt. This time, he was wearing red cotton, but still he wore faded out blue jeans and torn-up sneakers. “At least the shirt is new. Which is why I better fucking do it. You don’t know anything about clothes.” Lovino ignored the heat that was slowly building in his cheeks as he gripped the cotton in his fist and patted it clean._

_“I guess that true._ Muchas gracias _, Lovi,” Antonio cleared his throat. “So, um, why are you baking your own birthday cake?”_

_Lovino blushed and kept his eyes trained on Antonio’s shirt. “I wanted to bake it. Feli’s cakes taste better than mine, but he only gets it right half the time. Dad and Mom offered to figure it out between them, but Mom’s terrible at cooking and Dad wanted to supervise putting up the decorations because Feli’s such a klutz. I like baking, anyway. I just can’t get it to taste like Feli’s good ones, no matter how hard I try.” Lovino grimaced at the wet T-shirt and then shrugged, giving up. “Your shirt should be fine. You have some on your face, though.”_

_Antonio reached up himself and wiped off the batter on his face with his fingers. Deliberately, he placed his fingers in his mouth and licked the batter off. He paused, as if contemplating as Lovino blinked up at him incredulously._

_“I think I know what’s missing,” Antonio finally spoke up. Lovino gaped, thunderstruck and wanting to laugh out loud. “You, Lovi, hold back too much of your heart. You have to put love into your cooking. Feli fills up his cooking with love. Sometimes he messes up because he cares more about the journey than the destination, but you are much too practical for that.” Antonio grinned widely._

_“You’re fucking stupid! You can’t taste love!” Lovino snapped, turning his face away and blushing brightly._

_“Have you ever tried, Lovi?” Antonio’s voice was low and deep, more serious than Lovino had ever heard it. It was then, as Lovino’s heart jumped in his chest, that Lovino realized he was still holding Antonio’s shirt in his fist, the wet rag in his other hand dripping cold water onto the floor between them. He could swear that Antonio’s heart was beating faster beneath his knuckles, his breathing uneven._

_Lovino peered up through his lashes to Antonio’s face, wondering what he would see. Mocha skin, unruly chocolate hair, eyes greener than emeralds- Lovino swallowed. Antonio’s normally cheerful and stupid face was frowning down at Lovino’s hand, green eyes dark. He could feel how tense Antonio was and his eyes widened. Was he angry? Why? And how? Antonio didn’t get angry. The tension in the seventeen-year-old was so strong he seemed to be trembling._

_“Antonio?” Lovino whispered, unsure, his own breath uneven, his voice breaking to his dismay._

_His green eyes darted to Lovino’s, surprised and terrified. Lovino felt his own hands shake. Beneath the terror was_ hunger _. Being thirteen, Lovino had already begun his ascent into puberty, which meant his voice was changing, his body becoming leaner, hair beginning to grow in certain uncomfortable places, and he’d even had a growth spurt that made his bones ache. He had already woken up numerous times sweaty and dirty, confused and disoriented by the unconscious reactions of his body. Now, looking into Antonio’s hungry, terrified gaze Lovino knew what those disturbing feelings in his gut were._

_The rag dropped to the ground with a wet plop that neither boy heard._

_Small, delicate hands clutched at wet, red cotton. Bigger hands, calloused from rough play and working in his father’s vineyards clutched Lovino’s hips, fingers digging into bone._

_“I shouldn’t have said… It’s just… you look different… from last year…” Antonio choked out, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. Lovino licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and moved closer to Antonio’s body heat. Green eyes followed the quick, pink motion._

_“You don’t. You’re still beautiful,” Pelvis met pelvis, stomach against stomach. Lovino shuddered, pulling even closer, pressing his nose to Antonio’s collar bone as the older boy laughed breathlessly._

_“I think you have that backwards, Lovi. God,_ mi corazon _, if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to pull away,” Antonio’s hoarse voice warned when Lovino rocked his hips forward. The pressure was amazing, so much better than his mattress when Lovino woke up too far gone to care from one of his vague, heated dreams._

_“It’s my birthday, Antonio,” Lovino all but purred, lips brushing dark skin. Did it taste as good as it looked? Maybe love tasted like Antonio’s skin? “You can’t tell me no.”_

_“Mierde,” Antonio cursed, fingers gripping Lovino’s hips tighter until Lovino cried out sharply, but still quietly._

_Green eyes met amber, and Lovino felt his eyelids slide down, eyelashes tangling. Antonio was moving over him, pulling him up higher on his toes, his face hovering over Lovino’s. All Lovino had to do was stick out his tongue and he would taste Antonio’s lips, taste the orange soda and sugar still lingering there that he could smell. He was shaking, knees all but knocking. If Antonio hadn’t had such a tight grip on him, Lovino probably would’ve fallen to the floor._

_“Damn it, b-besame…” Lovino ordered angrily, using his poor and limited Spanish as his fingernails dug into Antonio’s chest._

_“Lovi~ My pet, we thought we heard something,” Francis’s voice sang out as he strolled down the hallway. He pushed open the swinging kitchen door and saw Antonio backed against a wall, panting and red-faced, and Lovino on the kitchen floor staring dazedly at a wet rag lying on the tiles, just as red-faced. “Ohonhon, what is this?” Francis waggled his eyebrows suggestively._

_At the savage snarl from Antonio and the dazed blank-eyed stare from Lovino, Francis quickly threw up his hands. “I will tell the others you’ve come,_ mon ami _. Do not take too long, now,” Blue eyes glared into green with warning before he stepped back._

_Antonio dragged a heavy hand through his shaggy hair and groaned softly. His head banged against the wall behind him as he closed his eyes and mentally cursed himself in very fluent and virulent Spanish, mixed in with some colorful French and German and Italian (teenage boys always knew the best cuss words). On the floor, Lovino’s mind was a whirlwind._

_Why did Antonio hold back? Sure, Francis walking in on them would’ve been embarrassing, but then Antonio and Lovino could date, be a couple, snatch kisses whenever they wanted and it would be fine. Sure, Lovino was young, but he could fucking date! He was in middle school, damn it! Unless… Unless Antonio hadn’t wanted to… unless Lovino had read the situation completely wrong? Maybe those words he thought were compliments and encouragements were really just Latin flirting gone too far? Everyone knew that Antonio flirted with everyone. It wasn’t something serious to him, like it was to Lovino. But… Antonio kissed and hugged Feli all the time. Not like a lover, sure, but he touched Feli more than he touched Lovino, so maybe… maybe Antonio had fallen in love with Feliciano, just like everyone else in the world and Lovino was just second best? The second best not quite as lovely older brother that no one liked, that was Lovino Vargas._

_Lovino could feel the tears gathering as he stared at the floor._ I was the one he chose first, damn it! Why couldn’t he just fucking love me more than Feli? Just him, he’s the only one I wanted to love me more! _Lovino rubbed his eyes with his wrist until the skin smarted and then rose to his knees._

 _“Why didn’t you just fucking kiss me?” Lovino growled as he snatched up the rag and got to his feet shakily. “Is it that fucking hard? Am I not fucking_ beautiful _enough? Obviously you prefer Feliciano, too. Sorry I_ threw _myself at you!” Lovino’s voice slowly began to build as Antonio stared at him, mouth hanging open. “Well, get the fuck out of my kitchen.”_

_“Wait, Lovi, you don’t-”_

_“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you’re about to say. Get out before you_ completely _ruin my fucking birthday. Go be stupid and happy and fucking oblivious to everything but Feli like always, damn you! GO!” Lovino pointed to the door Francis had come from, his eyes squeezed tight to force back more tears. He felt so fucking stupid right now. How could he have said those things, wanted those things? He was confused, embarrassed, and so fucking angry he just wanted to curl up in a corner and die. On his fucking birthday._

_Antonio straightened up from the wall and stepped forward. He reached out to touch Lovino’s face, but both boys flinched away from the contact. Antonio curled his fingers into a fist and let it drop to his side._

_“Lovi, I’m going. But it’s not for the reason you think. You’re dangerous to me,_ mi corazon,” _Antonio smiled a sharp, painful smile and Lovino stared up at him, ignoring the tears that fell to his cheeks._

_“I don’t understand,” Lovino retorted, glancing away and scowling as he wiped the tears away angrily on his sleeve. “I’m not dangerous. And why are you calling me that, damn it?” He glared at Antonio again, blushing scarlet._

“ _Ay Dios mio, you are too beautiful.”_

_Lovino watched, flabbergasted, as Antonio strode through the swinging door, long-legs eating the ground until Lovino could no longer hear his footsteps._

_“I still don’t fucking understand, you bastardo,” Lovi grumbled. He continued to grumble irritably as he cleaned up the mess and put the batter in pans and into the oven._

That was probably the worst birthday Lovino had ever had. He had managed to act like his usual surly, irritable self, but inside he had been dying in shame. He hadn’t even looked at Antonio when he’d opened his present.

A soccer ball. How fucking… _perfect._ He pictured Antonio’s face on the damn thing every time he kicked it.

Yeah, that had clinched it for the worst birthday ever. Until the year after that. Why was it that his birthday was in the summer? The summer _sucked_.

_Lovino was actually having a good time. With the bad memories of last year haunting him, Lovino had been more than glad to have his birthday somewhere different. Feliciano had come up with the brilliant idea of going to the summer carnival. Who could possibly have a bad time at a carnival? Cotton candy, fried meat on a stick, rickety rides that were even more exciting for the fact they could fall apart at any moment, the stupid music and the stupider games. Feliciano and Lovino were horrible at prize games. But they played them anyway, wasting their parents’ money and laughing every time they got a booby prize, like a finger puppet or rubber spider._

_Of course, the ‘Bad Touch Trio,’ as Francis had jokingly named them years ago, was together to enjoy the festivities. Feliciano was ecstatic that Antonio had shown up, since Francis had told them he might not. He was planning to attend the college in Rome with Francis and had wanted to spend time with his family for the summer. Instead, the threesome had joined up for a graduation celebration before separating for college. Francis and Antonio to Rome, Gilbert to Vienna. He wanted to be an architect, but the Berlin college was too expensive while his family still lived in Spain. He was supposedly going to live with an Austrian cousin to cut expenses. According to Gilbert, the Austrian cousin was a stick-in-the-mud pain in the ass with a crazy, violent guy friend he hadn’t seen in years._

_As most the party took a break for funnel cake and lemonade, Lovino concentrated on the last game he’d paid for. He really wanted that stuffed tomato hanging from the stall’s ceiling. All he needed was to toss a ring over the blue bottle and- DAMN IT._

_Lovino cussed and kicked the stall as his third and final ring missed again. He would have to ask his dad for another couple euros because that tomato_ would _be his!_

_“What do I need to do?” Antonio asked from behind Lovino._

_Lovino spun around, shoulders tensed. Antonio was standing with his hands in his pockets and grinning his lazy grin. “What the hell are you talking about?” Lovino snapped, face bright red._

_“To win this game.”_

_“You gotta get the ring on that blue bottle in the middle. It’s fucking impossible. I bet the bastardo rigged it.” Amber eyes glared at the vendor, whom only glared back._

_“All these games are rigged. But I can win it for you. Whatcha wantin’ so bad?”_

_Lovino glared at the pavement, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thetomato,” he mumbled. Antonio blinked, worked it out, and then laughed._

_“Sure thing,_ mi carino. _”_

What happened to _mi corazon_? _Lovino thought bitterly. He turned back to the stall as Antonio handed over the required money and took the rings. Antonio braced his feet apart, stuck his tongue between his teeth and readied himself for the throw. He looked so serious, with his brows lowered over his nose under his shaggy mat of hair, and so damn comical that Lovino laughed out loud. The ring bounced off a bottle rim about a foot away from the right one._

_“That was fucking pathetic!” Lovino gasped, clutching his ribs and outright guffawing. “I don’t need it that bad!”_

_“But you want it! And I forgot to bring a present. Stop distracting me!” Antonio whined._

_“How am I distracting? I’m only laughing, damn it.” Lovino wiped at his eyes and grinned. He really missed laughing like this. He had been so angry since his last birthday, so confused and torn, it had been hard to laugh this past year._

_“Well, it’s distracting, all right?” Antonio muttered as his cheeks flushed. Lovino slapped his hand over his mouth and raised an eyebrow at the Spaniard. Antonio bowed in thanks and then readied himself. With a deft flick of his wrist, the ring sailed true and landed neatly around the neck of the blue bottle._

_“Nofuckingway!!!!” Lovino shrieked in glee. “You won me the tomato, Antonio!”_

_He ran forward and threw out his arms like he was a kid again. Antonio snagged him up and swung him around, both laughing._

_“I told you I could,_ mi corazon _. Piece of cake,” Antonio bragged._

_Lovino pulled back, eyes wide. “What did you call me?”_

_Antonio’s arms tightened slightly and then he slowly set Lovino down. “I didn’t mean to say that,” he muttered, as if to himself. He walked to the stall, handed over the last ring, and took the tomato prize. It was so big that Lovino almost disappeared behind it. It was pretty squishy though, so he could keep ahold of it alright._

_“Antonio…” Lovino began as they started walking towards the others._

_“I’m not attending at Rome this fall,” Antonio suddenly interrupted. Lovino stopped in his tracks._

_“W-What?”_

_“I’m staying in Spain. My father wants me to take over his business in Madrid. He wants to retire in northern France, so he wants his son to watch the family’s home office, you know? Madrid is our family’s roots. I… I can’t come back to Italy, not for a while. I don’t think I’ll be back until I graduate, at least.”_

_Lovino felt his heart breaking all over again. He wouldn’t see Antonio for four years_ at least _? Antonio, the cheerful light of his life, the one who chose him over his brother, the one who loved him more than anybody else… really didn’t love him. Why else would he not want to come back to Italy? Not even to visit?_

_“Why do you keep doing this to me? YOU BASTARDO! As soon as I think it’ll be okay, as soon as I think I’ll be okay, you fuck it up all over again! I hate you, Antonio! I hope I never see your stupid fucking face ever again!” He threw the tomato to the ground and ran, heeled boots striking the cobbles._

_How stupid to think that Antonio had wanted to kiss him, had loved him, had_ wanted _him at all! Antonio was like everybody else. He had gotten sick of Lovino, too._

Lovino stepped out of the shower, shaking the water out of his hair along with the foggy memories resurfaced under the hot water. He had to keep focused tonight. He wiped mist off the mirror with his hand and stared at the reflection in the glass. He looked nervous. No good. It was time to pull all the stops, give it everything he had. He was getting what he wanted from Antonio and the Spaniard would just have to deal with it. No pulling back. No running away from whatever “danger” the Spaniard had thought he’d been in seven years ago. He knew, with his supremely wise old age, that Antonio hadn’t “gotten sick” of Lovino. Lovino had barely been a teenager, had barely hit puberty, when they had almost kissed in his parents’ kitchen. Obviously, Antonio had wanted to put some space between the seductive fourteen-year-old Lovino had been and himself. Now, however, Lovino was the ripe old age of twenty to Antonio’s twenty-four. _That_ was no longer a problem.

It had been three grueling days since Antonio had come to Rome. The trio of friends hung out all day and then the younger three (which Lovino was pissed off about since he was pretty much a third wheel to Ludwig and Feliciano’s couple) would meet up with them for drinks or a late night coffee somewhere. Three days of looking for him in every shop window he passed with Ludwig and Feliciano. Three days of waiting tables, pouring coffee, and counting tips while Antonio gallivanted about somewhere in _his_ city, in _his_ Rome. Three nights of planning and aching and wanting and watching Antonio right across the table, of knowing where he slept at night, in what bedroom at the Vargas villa on the outskirts of Rome. Tonight, however, was going to be different. Antonio had begged the group to go dancing the other day. There was a club deep in old Subura, otherwise known as “red-light Rome”, which was hosting a Latino dance night. Lovino was going to use it to his advantage. He knew how to dance, and dance _well_ if truth be told. Dancing to Latino music was almost like having sex on the dance floor and Lovino knew he could pull it off _as long as he didn’t get cold feet_.

He nodded firmly and began to ready himself. Antonio wasn’t going to know what hit him.

 


	3. Getting What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's yo smut!

This Is Going to Happen

Chapter Three

Getting What You Want

The club was filled with dancing lights, sweaty people, and the yeasty smell of beer. Gilbert and Antonio instantly liked it. Feliciano was scared piss-less and cowering behind Ludwig (Lovino pretended he didn’t care about that, because he always said he hated it when Feli used him as a shield). Francis enjoyed the sight of people grinding up on people, but he wasn’t terribly impressed with the alcohol.

Lovino hated it. He hated being touched, hated sweat, hated beer, hated crowds of people, and the mix of blinding lights and pitch black was giving him a headache.

But the music was amazing.

Beside him his only college-made friend was in even worse shape than he. She was a tiny Korean girl, Feli’s age rather than Lovino’s, with a very traditional, out-moded wardrobe and gorgeous, knee-length, brown hair she always kept braided, no matter how many times Lovino begged and pleaded for her to go to a stylist. She was pretty enough, but she refused to wear make-up or clothes that suited her petite, curvy frame. It was a wonder they were friends, really. However, she understood his reticence and shyness, withstood his tantrums with equanimity, and carried his bags when they went shopping. Plus, she had a secret love for pretty lingerie that Lovino had introduced her to. No one would suspect by looking at her dowdy old-fashioned garments that underneath she wore some of the most expensive and prettiest lingerie fresh from Paris. She didn’t do cute, but she did do elegant- silk, simple lace, complicated embroideries and sensible colors like lavender, black, and shimmering grey. He hoped to work on her skirt length next.

Her small hand grasped his elbow and he looked down at her, matching her scowl for scowl. He leaned down at her insistence.

“This is your infamous scene for seduction?” Im, Jae-soo growled into his ear. “I will not have need to distract your friends because they will not even hear me!”

“I didn’t know it’d be like this, Jae-soo. Hey, but the music is good, right?” He shrugged as he finished. Jae-soo was a music major, specializing in violin and classical music, but her education did include current genres. Her cat-like brown eyes rolled in exasperation.

“I do like reggae,” she muttered.

“Come on, you need to loosen up. Let’s get wine. I’m sure they have something palatable here… hopefully.” Lovino looked towards the neon-lit bar doubtfully.

“Did you two need drinks?”  _How did Antonio’s voice still manage to sound sexy when he was shouting?_ Lovino wondered irritably. Antonio grinned down at the pair while Jae-soo nodded and reached for her purse. His large, dark hand fell over hers. “I’ll pay for the first one, _mi carino_.”

He left Jae-soo blushing brightly, frozen and covered in goosebumps as she gaped wordlessly at him. She rounded on Lovino, still blushing, as he tried not to laugh. People didn’t flirt with Jae-soo. She was normally thought too intimidating by her usual scowl or dowdy because of her drab clothing. Antonio, however, was used to scowling, rude people (Lovino) and he never noticed things like clothes.

“What is a car- carin… careen… yo? Whatever that word was!” Jae-soo snapped as Lovino led her to the table Francis had claimed.

“It means ‘darling.’ Antonio uses it on all cute, adorable children. It’s his favorite word for Feliciano.”

“I am not a child! Or adorable or cute! I’m wearing a pleated skirt to my toes! How is that cute?” Jae-soo demanded.

“ _Mi carino_ , you are definitely adorable.” Lovino teased, using the proper Spanish pronunciation.

“I hate you.”

Maybe that was why they were such good friends? They could tease each other about the things they had in common. Lovino was normally the one being mocked for acting just like Jae-soo was acting now. It was nice to be on the other side of the play. Jae-soo scooted into the booth next to Feliciano, the only other person she knew. Feliciano loved her like he loved everybody. He was also used to Lovino’s angry mood swings and violent shyness, so he could handle Jae-soo’s pretty well. It helped she didn’t scream or yell filthy insults like Lovino did. Jae-soo usually just became quieter and quieter until she kicked whoever she was embarrassed by with a well-placed Tae Kwon Do move. Feliciano hadn’t pissed her off that badly yet, so he wasn’t really scared of her.

“I’m so glad you came, ve~” Feliciano wrapped his arms around Jae-soo’s shoulders and snuggled her while she blushed crimson.

“I am already regretting my decision to accompany you all here. This is not… this is not my usual idea of fun,” Jae-soo grumbled.

“Well, _mon petit_ , it is a good thing to try something new. Maybe you will surprise yourself and enjoy it? Maybe you will begin an illustrious love affair out there on the dance floor with a handsome stranger?” Francis grinned suggestively from Ludwig’s other side. Ludwig did not look pleased with this arrangement. While Feliciano was on one side, he did not like sitting so close to the Frenchman on the other side, but Gilbert had gone with Antonio for drinks.

“I will stay here,” Jae-soo retorted, crossing her arms and glaring at the gyrating sweaty mass of people. “I cannot dance like those people in any event.”

“Shall I claim the first dance with you, _mon petit_? I will show you how it is done properly.”

“I will kill you.”

“Ah~ Well then. _C’est le vie_ ,” Francis shrugged with a long-suffering sigh.

“Hey, I got the beer, Lutz!” Gilbert yelled over the noise as he slid in next to Francis. He pushed the foaming mug over the tabletop. Ludwig grabbed it with a grateful smile in Gilbert’s direction. Francis claimed his own mug of beer with a resigned sigh, while he preferred wine or brandy, Gilbert never bothered to remember. Antonio slid in next to Lovino and handed glasses of red wine to him and Jae-soo, keeping a short, fat glass of tequila in his hand. Feliciano didn’t like drinking a lot, so Lovino was expecting Feli to steal sips from him and Jae-soo.

“Luddy, Luddy, you’ll dance with me, won’t you?” Feliciano asked as Ludwig took a large gulp of Heineken. His face turned red as he choked on the gulp. “Ve~ Are you all right? You shouldn’t take such big swallows, Luddy,” Feliciano advised anxiously as he grabbed napkins from the centerpiece on the table.

“Yeah, Lutz, don’t take such big swallows,” Gilbert cackled as Antonio and Francis laughed, clutching their sides.

“I… I d-don’t think I c-can d-dance like that,” Ludwig stuttered in response to Feli’s question while glaring heatedly at his brother.

“Sure you can. You can follow me. Jae-soo, are you sure you won’t come, too?” Feliciano smiled down at Jae-soo, who merely shook her head and sipped at her wine.

“Antonio, why don’t you come with me?” Lovino asked abruptly, ignoring the flare of heat in his cheeks. Antonio stared at him, green eyes wide.

“ _Q-Que_?” Antonio blurted when he’d safely swallowed his mouthful of tequila.

“You came to fuckin’ dance, right? I can dance to this shit. So, fucking dance with me, damn it,” Lovino snapped, scowling and uncomfortable.

“Cheers, Antonio, Lutz. You two got the finest catches in the room. Go for it,” Gilbert lifted his mug up and then took a large swig.

“Yes, let’s go!” Feliciano exclaimed.

Antonio stared at Lovino’s face, then his shoulders slumped in defeat and he threw back the rest of his tequila in one go with his friends cheering him on. Eyes burning, he got to his feet and pulled Lovino out with him.

“Remember, Lovi, you wanted for this,” Antonio warned as Jae-soo shimmied out of the booth so Feli and Ludwig could get out.

“You have no fucking idea how much I want,” Lovino cut amber eyes at him and grabbed his hand. “And I’m getting what I want tonight.”

“Huh?” Antonio let himself be dragged towards the floor, dumbfounded. “What do you mean, Lovi?”

“Just shut the fuck up!” Lovino snapped as he stomped towards the mass of people. Antonio couldn’t help but chuckle.

The foursome managed to weave themselves into the middle of the crowd. Lovino and Ludwig looked completely out of place and uncomfortable, Feli was excited and scared at the same time, but Antonio just looked more at ease the more they sunk into the mass. He was already half-dancing by the time they stopped. Lovino turned towards Antonio’s dark face, lit up by bright green and white lights, and stopped, struck by how sexy Antonio looked for those few moments the older man was lost in the music. Antonio seemed to catch himself and looked down at Lovino with an apologetic smile. Out the corner of his eye, Lovino could see Feli placing Ludwig’s hands and trying to say something to the blonde. His attention zoomed back to Antonio as those large, long-fingered hands gripped Lovino’s hips and pulled him forward.

Amber eyes looked up into bright green, startled. Then, slowly, Lovino wrapped his hands around Antonio’s neck, fingers laced and pressed to Antonio’s hot skin and soft hair. Antonio grinned and shifted his grip, pulling Lovino up against his chest, their bodies meshed together. The Latino man waited a beat, just long enough for Lovino to find his balance, and then _moved_.

The bodies, the odor, the light, the music, Lovino could feel them all beating in his blood, his head, until he was dizzy. His face was against Antonio’s shirt and he could smell the sharp, fresh scent of Antonio’s soap and deodorant. Antonio’s hands and hips guided Lovino at first, but Lovino was pretty good at this kind of dancing, having gone dancing with Feli dozens of times. But this was so much better than dancing with his little brother or some carefully selected hot stranger. He let one hand slide down Antonio’s shoulder, over his chest, glorying in the feel of tense, hard muscle beneath dark blue cotton. Lovino could hear Antonio’s breath catch, but those hands didn’t leave his hips. He grinned as his choice in shirt worked perfectly. The tight, dark purple shirt rode up on his stomach as they moved, so calloused fingers brushed bare skin. Their jeans rubbed together, and Lovino knew it wouldn’t be long before the tight, confining material became painful. God, Antoniocould _move_. It really was like making love on their feet.

He looked up at Antonio through his lashes and met half-lidded green eyes. He pressed his pelvis forward, grinded into him, and smirked when Antonio’s fingers dug into his hips. The feeling was familiar and yet strange. He licked his lips, mouth dry, remembering with sudden nervousness what happened that long ago day. Would Antonio pull away again? Amber eyes widened as hands gripped his ass. Both groaned, Antonio’s forehead on Lovino’s, as their erections rubbed through thick, unforgiving fabric.

This was going even better than Lovino expected.

He grabbed a fistful of Antonio’s shirt and tugged as he raised himself onto his tiptoes. Hot breath fanned over his mouth and cheek, ragged and short.

“ _B-Besame_ , damn it,” Lovino ordered, echoing those same words from seven years ago. Antonio’s grip tightened convulsively and Lovino ground into Antonio’s pelvis, whimpering.

“L-Lovi… I d-don’t think I should.”

“Why? We’re already like this,” Lovino rolled his hips forward, making them both shudder. “Just fucking kiss me.”

“It won’t end there for me, _mi corazon,_ ” Antonio reached to cup Lovino’s face. He waited until Lovino was looking directly into his gaze. “I want you so bad, Lovi. Damn it, I’m scared I’ll take you right fucking here on the dance floor.”

Antonio didn’t cuss. Lovino couldn’t even remember Antonio ever using a cuss word in front of him other than that occasional Spanish one. It was always Lovino who used the filthy words. There was no doubt in Lovino’s mind that Antonio was telling the truth. The power Lovino _thought_ he had was nothing compared to what he _actually_ had over the Spaniard. Lovino swallowed nervously and then pulled himself together.

“Good. That’s exactly what I wanted, you dumb bastardo,” Lovino retorted. Green eyes widened, surprised. “God, you’re so fucking stupid. Let me spell it out for you. Fuck. Me,” Lovino said slowly, deliberately, as he moved his hips again, his hand sliding into the hair at the back of Antonio’s head. He twisted his fingers and pulled down.

Antonio muttered something in Spanish just before their lips met. Lovino wanted to weep, or curse, but he settled on moving his mouth with Antonio’s in a kiss that took _way too long_ to get. God, how he had wanted to taste Antonio’s lips on his, the lazy slide of his tongue over Lovino’s bottom lip, slipping into his mouth to tangle and twist with his. He kissed like he danced, sensual, smooth, and breath-taking. He could spend every day for the rest of his life kissing Antonio and wouldn’t get tired of it, he knew. They were gasping and kissing and still their bodies moved to the fast paced rhythm of Latino reggae ton. Their hands were grasping and searching, moving over muscle and sharp bone, touching bare skin and groaning at the clothing that got in the way. It was too hot, too sweaty, too loud, too many damn people, but Lovino forgot all the nuisances in favor of touching and tasting more and more of the Spaniard whom had driven him crazy for so long. When Antonio pulled his mouth away to trail damp lips down Lovino’s throat, the Italian was startled into remembering exactly where they were.

“A-Antonio… Antonio, w-wait-”

“ _No._ ” Antonio’s teeth sunk into Lovino skin, lips dragging the flesh into his warm mouth. Lovino swore his eyes crossed.

“ _Yes_ , damn it! I mean, no!” He grabbed Antonio’s wrists and wrenched those hands away from his ass. Antonio’s green eyes were piercing, almost _glaring_ , as he looked into Lovino’s flushed face. “My apartment. Let’s… go,” he managed to pant out. Antonio blinked and there was a visible strain on his face as he attempted to pull himself together.

“How far?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“ _Mierde._ ”

Antonio somehow got his wrists free only to snag Lovino’s and start dragging him from the dance floor. Lovino hurried to keep up, forgetting to even look back for his brother. They passed by the table where Gilbert and Jae-soo were talking. Francis had apparently found himself a dance partner and had left the pair behind. Jae-soo had finished her drink and was currently drinking Lovino’s and laughing with Gilbert.

“Hey, Tonio, Lovino, where are you- Oh. Never mind.” Gilbert and Jae-soo watched the pair hurry past without even turning in their direction.

………………

Seventeen minutes and forty-eight seconds later, Antonio all but kicked Lovino’s door in.

“You asshole! You coulda broke my damn door!” Lovino shrieked as he yanked the keys from the doorknob. He yelped in surprise as Antonio wrapped his arm around Lovino’s waist from behind, pulling him away from the door as Antonio slapped it shut.

“It was taking too long,” Antonio said completely unabashed. “You said fifteen minutes.”

“We had to get a taxi and-” He cut off, gasping as Antonio bit down on the back of his neck. The hand around his waist slipped down to press against the front of his pants, causing Lovino to moan out loud, the keys falling to the ground with a loud jangle. “The… bedroom…”

“In a minute,” Antonio growled against Lovino’s wet skin, the front of his pants pressing into Lovino’s jean-clad ass. “So sweet.” He thrust forward, breathing harsh as Lovino gasped and cried out. “Have you… I know you’ve kissed others, but…”

“No, I haven’t fucked anyone else if that’s what you’re trying to ask, you idiot,” Lovino snapped, as he placed his hands on the wall to keep from falling. “So can we go to the damn bed now?”

Antonio’s hand was on the wall next to his and his erection rubbing hard against Lovino’s backside before Lovino had even finished his sentence. Sweat slid down Antonio’s temple. His hand was already inching up to Lovino’s bared stomach, fingers brushing the waistband of Lovino’s jeans.

“I have to… touch you…” Antonio gritted out past clenched teeth. The button slipped free on Lovino’s black jeans and his hand plunged down into Lovino’s boxer briefs.

Lovino bit his lip, eyes squeezing shut, as _that_ hand wrapped around him. He was already leaking precum and harder than he had ever been in his life. Antonio’s breath was hot on his neck, his fingers hotter, as he ground into Lovino and stroked up and down. Lovino was trembling and crying out within moments, unable to hold back. His fingers scrabbled over drywall, desperately seeking purchase, frustrated by the lack thereof. In the back of his mind, he realized this wasn’t exactly how this was supposed to go. _Antonio_ was supposed to be losing his mind and screaming against a wall, but Lovino didn’t really care that much. He was still getting what he wanted. Antonio was still going to be in his bed, naked, before the night was over. He was whimpering against the wall, knees jelly, when he felt his first climax coming.

“Sh-Shit, An-Antonio… I’m g-going t-to…”

“Not yet,” Antonio whispered in his ear, biting down on the shell.

“I h-have t-to, you f-fucker,” Lovino spat angrily, tears at the corners of his eyes. Antonio chuckled and goosebumps rose on Lovino’s skin. Amber eyes widened as Antonio’s hand pulled away. “W-Wait!” he squeaked as Antonio turned him around and pressed him back against the wall.

“I want to watch you cum, Lovi. I can’t let you climax the first time without me watching,” Antonio told him, his mouth turned up into a crooked smile that made Lovino’s heart squeeze. Antonio leaned forward and kissed Lovino hard, thrusting his tongue into Lovino mouth, tasting every corner, before Lovino could think too hard about that smile. Antonio pulled away, leaving Lovino gasping, as he nibbled down Lovino’s neck, to his collarbone, down his chest bared by the shirt pushed up out of the way.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?” Lovino wheezed, watching Antonio fall slowly to his knees. His jaw dropped as Antonio pushed his jeans to the floor and kissed Lovino’s now-bared hip bones. Antonio worked Lovino’s boot off and tossed it away. “W-Wait, you d-don’t have to do that!” Lovino protested as Antonio propped the Italian’s leg on his shoulder.

“I want to,” Antonio replied as he bit Lovino’s inner thigh. Lovino bit down on his lip and dug his nails into the wall behind him, trying to keep balanced. Then, Antonio licked up the throbbing length of him.

“ _Shit_.”

Antonio chuckled and took the tip of him in his mouth. Lovino slammed his head back into the wall, grinding his teeth and trying not to thrust into Antonio’s face. It felt completely unreal. The heat and dampness of Antonio’s mouth, the motion of his tongue, the pressure when Antonio sucked him in. He was going to fall into pieces. He was going to pass out. He didn’t even notice his own hands burying themselves in Antonio’s hair, couldn’t hear himself cry out Antonio’s name. There was a blinding, numb light in his head, behind his eyes, and suddenly the pressure was lifted. He was spiraling down, gasping and spent, when he opened his eyes. Antonio was moving back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, barely hiding a grin. If Lovino could’ve, he would’ve cum again.

“Did… did you _swallow_?” Lovino squeaked in disbelief.

“I couldn’t let it go to waste,” Antonio joked as he pulled off Lovino’s other boot.

“That’s… That’s fucking ridiculous!” Lovino squawked indignantly, blushing bright red.

“If you say so. By the way, you looked amazing when you came,” Antonio informed him lightly as he pulled underpants and jeans away. He got to his feet as Lovino’s mouth worked soundlessly. He grabbed Lovino’s shirt and tugged it the rest of the way off. Lovino let him, glaring at the Spaniard when he tossed it away like he did the boots.

“That shirt was forty dollars.”

“We’ll find it later,” Antonio replied easily before sweeping Lovino up, bridal style. “I thought you wanted to go to bed?”

“B-Bastardo.”

Since his apartment was so small, it didn’t take long for Antonio to have Lovino laid out in bed. It would’ve been quicker if Lovino hadn’t attacked Antonio’s mouth halfway there, but Antonio wasn’t complaining. Even when he stubbed his toes on the door jamb. They tumbled unto the silk, bronze-colored comforter that sank beneath their weight. With a mental note that not only Lovino’s clothes were stupidly expensive, Antonio pressed down into Lovino’s pelvis, glorying in all the bare skin beneath him. If he wasn’t so damn excited, he would spend hours tasting every inch of all that golden skin, but he _needed_ to be in Lovino _soon_. He deepened the kiss, hands gliding over warm, soft skin as he groaned. _More, more, more_ , his mind screamed. He had no idea the same words were echoing in Lovino’s mind.

“O-Oof,” Lovino attempted to say in Antonio’s mouth.

“Wuh-what?”

“ _Off_.”

Crushing despair almost choked Antonio. _Nononononono_. “N-now?” Antonio choked out bitterly.

“Yes, damn it! Your clothes are in the fucking way! Do you wanna have sex or not?” Lovino demanded, tugging and pulling on Antonio’s shirt, red faced and scowling. Antonio blinked in surprise and then burst out laughing. “This isn’t fucking funny! I _need_ you, Antonio. I’ll say ‘please,’ if I have to, damn it, but I’ll fucking kill you later.”

“N-No, that’s not… never mind,” Antonio managed to force his laughter into chuckles and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He reached for his pants as Lovino gazed up at him.

With fingers trembling, Lovino gently touched Antonio’s bare chest. Sure, they’d all gone swimming at the beach before, in the pool back at Venice, too, but Antonio seemed so much more beautiful here in his room, the dim light gilding his dusky skin. He looked so damn good with his slender waist and trim muscle all tense and moving under his skin. Lovino shimmied further up and leaned forward to kiss Antonio’s chest, lick his darker nipple, take him into his mouth and bite gently into that firm flesh. His hands were all over Antonio’s torso, eagerly feeling every line and curve.

“ _Mi corazon,_ I can’t get undressed if you keep doing that,” Antonio pointed out in a strained voice. He winced as Lovino bit down again. “Lovi…” He trailed off, his tone warning.

Lovino ignored him; trailing kisses over his chest to his other nipple, sucking the pert tip, making Antonio suck his breath sharply through his teeth. His hands slid down to Antonio’s on his pants, then down further to touch the evident bulge straining against the zipper.

“Is it painful, Antonio?” Lovino asked slyly, running his fingers up and down. Antonio groaned, half-laughing. “It’s a lot smaller than I thought it would be,” Lovino lied, smirking up at Antonio.

“You’re really going to kill me if you keep this up,” Antonio laughed. Lovino sighed and fell back with a huff onto his pillows.

“You’re taking so damn long. Don’t keep me waiting all fucking night, damn it,” Lovino crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at Antonio who shucked his pants off with some difficulty.

“I’m so very sorry,” Antonio leaned over Lovino, green eyes twinkling in mirth. “Is this better?”

“Almost,” Lovino crooked his finger, beckoning Antonio closer as he blushed. “Closer.”

“ _Si, si_ , your wish is my command.” They both laughed as their hair tangled together on Lovino’s forehead. “Is there anything else you need?”

Lovino wrapped his arms around Antonio neck and grinned, blushing brightly as he was wont to do with this stupid Spaniard. “ _Besame_.”

“I can do that.”

They kissed again, already memorizing the feel and shape of the other’s mouth and lips. Their tongues battled and Antonio let his weight drop more on Lovino, keeping some of his weight off by balancing on his elbow. His erection was digging into the soft flesh of Lovino’s stomach, making him groan into Lovino’s gasping mouth. It took all of his self-control not to dry-hump the Italian to completion or thrust into his entrance dry.

“L-Lube. _Donde esta?_ ” Antonio asked, not realizing he was using Spanish-mixed Italian.

“Drawer.” Lovino threw out a hand, slamming it into the nightstand with a hiss of pain, before scrabbling for the top drawer. Antonio kissed his neck, sucking his skin into his mouth, wanting to leave a mark behind to prove he’d claimed this little Italian at last. His flesh tasted delicious on his tongue. Somehow, Lovino managed to locate the tube and smacked Antonio’s temple with it. “Bastardo, stop that! I have work tomorrow.”

Dazedly, Antonio grabbed the bottle. He paused, staring at it.

“What is this?” Antonio asked, staring at the purple and blue design.

“It’s supposed to make it feel better and taste good, or something, damn it. I don’t fucking know. It was expensive and the bottle was fucking pretty, all right? Hell if I knew what to get. I thought it would smell good…” Lovino blushed.

“It was pretty, expensive, and you thought it would smell good and that’s why you bought it?”

“Would you just shut the fuck up and use it already!”

“ _Si, si_. It’s just weird you bought a ‘Him and Her’ lube.”

“I said _shut the fuck up_.”

Lovino grabbed Antonio’s face with both hands and pulled him down, forced him into a kiss, which seemed the only option to shutting him up (well, he could’ve kicked a very sensitive area, but that would be counterproductive at this point in time). The kiss worked pretty well, and Lovino could feel the familiar hot stirring in his lower belly. Antonio caught his tongue in his teeth and sucked like he had earlier to a different part of Lovino’s anatomy. Lovino whimpered and pressed upwards, his growing erection sliding along Antonio’s. Antonio shook, his hands, one still holding the bottle of lube awkwardly, grabbed at Lovino’s hips to stop the motion, but Lovino moved again, loving the feeling of them rubbing together.  The low, throaty groan was more than enough reward.

Antonio balanced on one elbow and twisted open the bottle with shaking hands while Lovino took the opportunity to kiss more of Antonio’s throat. Two could leave marks, and if Antonio was going to cover him with bite marks, then Lovino was going to return the favor, with a vengeance. He stilled, apprehensive, as cool, gelled fingers touched his entrance.

“Just relax, _mi corazon_ ,” Antonio whispered.

 Lovino whimpered against Antonio’s neck as a finger pushed inside. He gasped, spine arching as he plunged deeper, a second finger joining the first. His fingers scissored, widening him, curling against something that made Lovino almost scream aloud as stars burst in his head. _There it is_ , he swore he heard Antonio say, but maybe that was in his head along with the loud, incomprehensible Italian pounding in his brain. A third finger made Lovino gasp and wince in pain. The pain was engulfed with that numbing pleasure as Antonio plunged into him again. He was shaking, his whole body trembling, precum already sliding down his length, smearing on their stomachs. Antonio pulled his hand away and Lovino shuddered, feeling empty, his hips still moving in an effort to find again that amazing feeling. Antonio kissed his hair, his forehead, his eyebrow, and he could faintly hear Antonio’s musical Spanish.

_It won’t hurt long. I promise, my heart, it’ll feel good._

He nodded at those words in his head, eyes widening as Antonio positioned himself at Lovino’s entrance. Amber eyes glanced up, glazed and anxious, into emerald green.

“A-Antonio?”

“I’m going to come in you now, Lovi. I… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop after this.”

“Could you stop now, if I asked you to?” Lovino asked as he gripped Antonio’s biceps.

“I… I don’t know,” Antonio answered truthfully, pushing in as he spoke. Lovino arched, legs spreading further, his teeth gritting so hard they squeaked.

“It _doesn’t_ fucking hurt,” Lovino growled when Antonio attempted to slow. He was obviously lying, they both knew it, but Lovino moved anyway, taking Antonio in deeper so that they both let out strangled gasps.

Lovino’s eyes were on Antonio’s face, watching as the fight to remain still struggled with the need to move. Lovino reached up to cup Antonio’s face and dark eyes snapped open. Lovino tangled his fingers in sweaty dark hair and smiled, his lips quivering.

“I won’t break, you know.”

The struggle ended. Antonio’s hands on his hips steadied them as he pushed in with one hard thrust. Lovino cried out, only to have Antonio’s mouth over his, swallowing the sound. Antonio pulled away, only to plunge in again, his tongue following his motion. Their kiss was sloppy, wide-mouthed, and desperate, broken by gasps and loud cries. When Antonio shifted Lovino’s hips up higher, Lovino saw the stars again. He all but screamed Antonio’s name, fingers tugging at his hair until he almost pulled it out. Antonio’s harsh breath and heavy grunt made the churning in Lovino’s gut even hotter, tighter.  He was going to fall apart again. The feeling was indescribable, how, in all his fantasies, could he have known it would be like _this_? It hurt, it was beautiful, please don’t let it stop, but he couldn’t handle anymore. He was moving with Antonio’s frantic motions. It was like they were dancing again. He pulled Antonio’s mouth down to his again and they kissed sloppy and wet.

“Lovi, Lovi _, Lovi_ ,” Antonio gasped into his mouth, plunging in so deep Lovino screamed again. Lovino came over their stomachs, the heat of it making his already burning skin flinch. Antonio collapsed on top of him just moments later, their chests heaving as something warm gushed into Lovino.

It was probably the weirdest feeling ever mixed with the most mind-blowing.

And damn, it _really_ was better than he thought it would be.

“Lovi, you ‘kay?” Antonio asked, his voice muffled by Lovino’s shoulder.

“Stupid bastardo. ‘Course I am.”

“ _Bueno, mi amore,_ ” Lovino blushed brightly. _My love_. Antonio hadn’t used that one before. Antonio took a deep breath and pushed himself up on his hands. “I think… I think I can make it to the shower.”

“Huh?”

“Hold on.”

“Wait, what?”

Antonio pulled out of him, making Lovino wince. That was really weird. Then, he gasped as Antonio swung off the bed and swept him up into his arms. “We shouldn’t ruin your pretty blanket more than we can help, no? Don’t you want a shower, _mi amore_?”

“Stop calling me that! And put me the fuck down! I don’t want to move!”

“Ah~ Don’t struggle, I’ll fall,” Antonio warned as he wobbled. Lovino immediately stilled and wrapped his arms around Antonio neck.

“Don’t you dare fucking drop me,” Lovino snarled, amber eyes sparking. Antonio chuckled that stupid ‘fusosososo.’

“Don’t worry. You won’t hurt so badly by tomorrow night.”

“ _Oh, shut the fuck up!”_ Lovino shrieked, red-faced.

……………

The next day, Lovino and Antonio met the group for a late lunch at the Vargas villa. Francis was looking pleased with himself, Ludwig looked dazed, and Feliciano was eating his pasta and humming pleasantly. Lovino stopped, baffled to see Jae-soo sitting with Gilbert again. She blushed every time Gilbert turned to her, but she didn’t look unpleased to be there. And… was Gilbert’s arm on her chair?

“Jae-soo, I thought you’d be home?” Lovino questioned, amber eyes darting suspiciously between the two. Jae-soo blushed even brighter as Gilbert ‘kesesesesese’d.

“I woke up here. I believe I imbibed too freely last night. I have the head ache,” Jae-soo replied as she stared down into her coffee.

“It must be hella bad if you’re drinking coffee. You hate the damn stuff,” Lovino narrowed his eyes at Gilbert. “You better not have taken fucking advantage my innocent friend, Beilschmidt.”

“Me? Whatcha talkin’ bout? I’m as innocent as a babe myself,” Gilbert grinned as steam poured from Jae-soo’s ears.

“Lovino, please do not press the issue. Bei-Be-Bellsch-sh- er, Bellshmit, was nothing but a gentleman to me,” Jae-soo muttered. Antonio pulled out a chair, laughing with Francis as Ludwig stared at his brother in shock.

“A gentleman, _my bruder_? You imbibed quite a lot if you think so, Ms. Jae-soo,” Ludwig attempted a weak smile with his joke as the other two older men renewed their crows of laughter. Francis slapped Ludwig on the back, immediately wincing afterwards. Ludwig was as hard as granite.

Gilbert covered Jae-soo’s ears. “Don’t listen to these bastards, _fraulien_. The awesome me is more a gentlemen than these perverts.”

“Yeah, right,” Lovino moved to take a seat and then paused, slowly turning red. The seats did have very thick cushions, but there was no way he wanted to sit down. The adventure in the shower had ended in another bout of slow, utterly amazing love making. Then, there was this morning. He was _raw_. With a sigh, he pulled Antonio’s chair away from the table.

“W-What? Lovi? I was gonna eat!” Antonio protested. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you fucking dimwit,” Lovino sat across Antonio’s lap, keeping the pressure on his thighs instead of his bum. “I wanna sit this way today,” he muttered, blushing fiercely and hiding his face beneath his bangs.

Dead silence reigned. Then, Feliciano climbed up onto Ludwig’s lap.

“Ve~ What a great idea, Lovi~ Luddy, do you mind if I sit here, too?” Feliciano asked with a happy grin up at Ludwig.

“W-W-W, N-N-N-Err,” Ludwig stuttered senselessly as his face turned red.

“You can feed me!” Feliciano sang out happily.

“Oh, that’s a good idea. Should I feed you, _mi amore?_ ” Antonio nuzzled Lovino’s head, smiling his dopey grin.

“No! I can feed myfuckingself!” Lovino snapped, punching Antonio in the gut. Antonio wheezed, clutching his belly.

“You are not very nice to the man whose lap you just claimed, Lovino,” Jae-soo pointed out as she smeared a liberal amount of marmalade on her toast. She examined her toast critically and then piled on a spoonful more of the stuff. Gilbert eyed her toast uneasily.

“Do you need a little more toast with that, _fraulien?_ ”

“The sarcastic witticism I learned from Lovino for this exact situation is ‘Harhar, go to hell.’” She took a bite and sighed in pleasure. “ _Delizioso.”_

Francis smiled and sipped his café au lait. It was good to see his family all happy. Now, he needed a second half of his own. Though, maybe he was calling it too fast on the German and Korean pair. Despite Gilbert’s “reputation,” he knew for a fact that Gilbert could be a gentleman when he wanted.

 

……..

Lovino was tucked against Antonio’s side late one night. There were just a few days left until Antonio was to return to Madrid. He knew the end was coming, but it didn’t stop his heart from feeling heavy, as if weighed down with sadness. Lovino squeezed his eyes shut, mentally berating himself for stupid romantic nonsense. No matter what Antonio called him, Antonio would never see Lovino as anything more the little boy he should protect. Lovino knew that. He saw the guilt in Antonio’s eyes sometimes: when they were laughing outside the café where Lovino worked, when Lovino met him for a date in the Piazza del Fountana, after they kissed, or, this was the worst, when they were having sex and Lovino was gasping and sated beneath him. God, he hated that damned _guilt_. He didn’t understand it!

How could Antonio treat him like something precious, like something breakable and beautiful, call him such sweet endearments, have sex like they were making love, and still feel guilt? Lovino’s only answer was: Antonio treated everyone like that. Which meant Lovino felt much more for his Spaniard lover than Antonio did for him and Antonio knew it. Antonio felt guilty because as much as he wanted Lovino, maybe even loved him in his strange, carefree way, he didn’t love Lovino like Lovino loved him.

And it hurt. It hurt so much that Lovino wanted to cry every time Antonio looked at him like that. He wanted to weep when Antonio climaxed with Lovino’s name on his lips because one day it wouldn’t be Lovino. One day, Lovino wouldn’t be Antonio’s _amore_. One day, Lovino would be alone with a broken heart and an empty bed while Antonio was with some beautiful, lovely person he deserved. Lovino knew he didn’t deserve his beautiful, cheerful, dark-skinned Spaniard with his generous heart and friendly nature. Lovino was short-tempered, callous, vulgar, mean, and lavish only to himself. Sure, Lovino could be generous, but only to people _he_ loved, or if he could get something out of it. He was still mean and violent to those he loved, too! He could never treat those beloved to him like they were precious, not like Antonio could. No, Lovino had a tiny, cold, envious heart. He was jealous of his parents’ affection for his own brother- the brother _he himself_ doted on. So, add hypocrite to the list of Lovino’s faults, too.

A soft mouth pressed against his forehead. He hadn’t realized his body was reacting to his thoughts, hadn’t felt the tears he had suppressed these past three weeks slip under his eyelashes.

“ _Mi amore_ , what is wrong?” Antonio whispered, his voice still rough and low. Lovino gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Now, I must know. Lovi, what is it?” His fingers pressed under Lovino’s chin, forcing Lovino’s face up.

Lovino kept his eyes squeezed shut. “Leave me alone, damn it,” Lovino managed to force out.

He wanted to scream in frustration when Antonio pulled himself up and brought Lovino up with him. “I can’t leave you alone. You’re crying. You never cry, Lovi. The last time… the last time was on your thirteenth birthday. What is it? Did I do something again? What have I done? Did I hurt you this time?”

“No! No, damn it! Stop thinking it’s your damn fault! Because it isn’t! It’s mine! It’s always been my fault!” Lovino wrenched open his eyes to glare angrily. “Why do you always think you’re to blame, huh? You’re a fucking saint! You never do _anything_ wrong.”

“What? I’m not a saint. I don’t understand what-Whoa!” Antonio felt back onto the bed, Lovino straddling his waist and glaring down at him. Antonio smiled softly, relaxing back into the mattress. “If I was a saint, Lovino, would I get hard even when I see you cry?” Antonio asked, his smile becoming crooked. “Only I have this Lovino, I think. Only I see this face, only I make you cry, and as much as I hate it, I love it. These are my tears, no? This weakness of yours is _mine_. No, Lovino, I am no saint.”

Lovino stared at him, eyes wide. Then, he leaned down and kissed that crooked smile. “I’m okay with that. But I want something in return, Antonio.” Lovino trailed his lips down Antonio’s neck, breathing the musky scent of him. They had already had sex, but both were already stirring to life again. “Can I have you? I want to be inside you this time, Antonio.”

Antonio shuddered, trying to get his hands on Lovino’s body, desperate for contact, but Lovino’s hands were still pinning his wrists down. He could easily get free, but he liked being held down. He swallowed, his breath becoming shallow. “ _Si_ , _mi amore_.”

Lovino trembled slightly, but he wanted it too much to back down now. One of his favorite night time fantasies was taking Antonio, claiming him as Antonio had been claiming _him_ the past couple weeks. He wanted to burn his essence into the taller Spaniard, bury himself deep until Antonio screamed his release. Just the thought of it was making his blood pulse. He sank his teeth into Antonio neck and rubbed their growing lengths together, still sticky and damp from the earlier play. He could feel Antonio’s muscles strain, wanting to pull free, trying not to, pressing closer to his body as if cold. Antonio’s soft moan was like music and he sucked harder, making doubly sure his mark would be left behind brazenly on the mocha-colored skin.

Lovino let go of one of his wrists, reaching for where the lube had been tossed. Antonio got to it first and pressed it into Lovino’s hand. With a kiss to his sore flesh, Lovino thanked him silently and pulled away.

“Flip over.”

Antonio did as ordered. He tensed as Lovino grabbed his hips to pull him to his knees. Lovino leaned over Antonio’s back, his fingers sliding down, down, as he gripped Antonio’s ear between his teeth. He traced the shell of the dark ear with the tip of his tongue, as one hand stroked down Antonio’s back, and the other pressed inward. Antonio winced, body tensing. He’d done this before, he _was_ bi and hadn’t been physically faithful to the memory of the fourteen-year-old boy he’d left six years ago, but it hadn’t been often and it had been a long time since.

“You’re hot inside, Antonio. So hot. Where does it feel good?” Lovino’s sweet Italian whispered into his ear and all those other faces were gone and dust. His fingers twisted into the sheets and another finger pushed inside, deeper, deeper, until Antonio cried out. “Here?”

“ _Si_. Curl them, Lovi, like I do,” Antonio managed to say. His apt pupil complied, and it took all his control not to cry out again. His teeth bit down on his bottom lip, his brows scrunched together.

“You can be loud, Antonio. Don’t hold it in. I want you to cry out for me,” His motions quickened as his hand reached around Antonio’s waist to stroke his aching erection. Antonio gasped aloud and fell forward on the pillow. “I can’t wait any longer, Antonio. I hope two was enough.”

Antonio nodded silently. Lovino’s voice was breathy and hoarse as he spoke. He wanted in soon, because he was already aching so bad it hurt hearing Antonio making those noises, seeing him beneath him. He lubed himself quickly, not wanting to prolong it further. He set both hands on Antonio’s hips, shaking, afraid to go in, too far gone to actually stop.

“Please, Lovi, I’m ready now,” Antonio finally begged. Lovino leaned over and kissed his neck, pushing in slowly.

God, it was tight. There was nothing comparable. Lovino had never been with another, had never been with a woman either. All he knew was that it was so damn tight and hot. He wasn’t even in all the way and he already wanted to cum. He stilled, gasping against Antonio’s neck. The panting and moaning beneath him was going to drive him insane. With a stifled groan, he forced himself in as deep as he could, both crying out. He wanted to do it again and again until he died. If only he could be inside forever. He was thrusting in and out shallowly, his fingers digging into Antonio’s hips. Distantly he could hear Antonio shouting in a mix of Italian and Spanish, something that always made him smile, and it didn’t fail now. His smile was possessive, sharp, teeth gritting painfully, but God, he loved the sound of Antonio’s voice when he lost control like that. He didn’t hear himself say it, the three words he never wanted to say. He moaned it out loud and his world went dark, the pleasure making him numb and hot as he slumped over Antonio and slipped free on accident.

When he finally came to, he was sweaty, sticky, and gross and felt boneless. It took a great deal of effort to even open his eyes. He was staring at his wall, lying on Antonio’s chest as the Spaniard ran his fingers through his hair. He was humming something soft and familiar. Lovino’s eyes widened as he recognized the tune. It had been his family’s favorite when he had been a child. He and Feliciano would sing it for their parents. It had been the song he was singing when he first met Antonio. Antonio was only humming the tune, but Lovino knew that was it. He clenched his teeth and buried his face in Antonio’s chest and let the tears come. He didn’t fucking care.

He never wanted this moment to end. Because at this moment, Antonio was _his_. He cried silently as Antonio pressed a gentle kiss to his hair.

He didn’t see the soft look on Antonio’s face. Strong arms gathered him up close, nose buried in his hair.

“It’ll be okay, _mi amore_. We will be okay. I promise.”

Lovino shook his head. _I’ll never be able to forget. How can you keep a promise you for something you don’t even understand?_

 

 


	4. Santa's Present

 

This Is Going to Happen

Final Chapter

Santa’s Present

Antonio leaned down to give Lovino one more lingering kiss.

“I’ll be back before ya know it. Christmas isn’t so far from now. I’ll bring you a really good gift Lovi.”

Lovino forced a smile. “Yeah, I know. Who’s fucking counting, anyway? I’ll be too busy to even know you’re gone.”

“We’ll all be here for Christmas, right? It’ll be so much fun if we can celebrate again like we used to! Ve~ Ve~” Feliciano suggested eagerly as he body-slammed Antonio in a hug. Antonio nuzzled Feliciano’s head with that dopey, kinda sketchy smile on his face.

“ _Si, si_ , I like that. Let’s all celebrate in Rome this year!”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ludwig said noncommittally as he tugged Feliciano away. After a month of trying to protest and ignore the obviously growing chemistry between them (Feli hadn’t held back at all), Ludwig and Feliciano were officially dating. Because of this, he was a _tad_ more possessive than he had been. Antonio and Feliciano pouted. Well, until Ludwig put his arm on Feli’s shoulders, then Feli was grinning like an idiot again.

“I know I can make it. I’m just my boss’s bitch, but as long as I get my blueprints in on time, I should be golden,” Gilbert shrugged. “I like Italy. It’s warm.”

“Paris is so beautiful in the winter, with the houses frosted with snow and the smells of the pastries baking, but I also will come to Rome for Christmas. I would rather spend my holidays with family,” Francis agreed eloquently. For a few seconds, Lovino actually liked him.

“ _Bueno_ ,” Behind Antonio, the train blew the warning whistle. He adjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder. “I have to go.”

Antonio hesitated, his green eyes flicking towards Lovino’s. He had never spoken to Lovino about the night a week ago when he’d cried himself to sleep. Lovino had thought it weird, but didn’t bring it up himself. While Lovino didn’t catch that guilty look anymore, Antonio had begun looking at him in a completely different, unsettling way. It made Lovino’s stomach flop. Antonio glanced at his friends, who quickly pulled the other two away. He set his hands on Lovino’s shoulder, his green eyes filled with that strange new look.

“I’m coming back. I promise. What happened this past month, it isn’t over.” Amber eyes fell to the floor. “Damn it, Lovino, look at me.” The Italian looked up, startled. “I mean it! You’re… you’re thinking something you won’t tell me, and I’m really freaking out here. There’s something going on that has nothing to do with why you cried last week, isn’t there?”

Lovino inhaled sharply. “H-How’d- Wh-wha-?”

The whistle blew again, sharp and jarring. Antonio cursed in Spanish and met Lovino’s eyes again.

“You’re going to tell me the truth when I come back, Lovi.” He pressed his mouth hard against Lovino’s, who was still wide-eyed and baffled when Antonio pulled back.

The Spaniard took off running for the train, swinging up into the doorway and waving at the group as they gathered behind Lovino again. Lovino watched the train, clutching his shirt over his heart. For once, Antonio was reading under the surface, even just a little. Too bad it was too little, too late.

Because Lovino wouldn’t be here when Antonio got back.

 

“What do you mean you’re going to Paris!?” Feliciano cried out as Lovino hauled his suitcase to the door.

“Why don’t you listen to what _you’re_ saying? I am going to Paris, simple as that,” Lovino puffed. Jae-soo finished cleaning out the fridge, satisfied that his apartment was clean enough for the tenants living there next for a year. “I’ll be back at the end of next summer in time for my last year of college.”

“We will not be staying there longer than a year, Feliciano. It is just a study abroad program for our respective majors,” Jae-soo explained in her soothing, calm voice. Feliciano refused to be soothed.

“A _year_? But you’re coming back for Christmas, right? We promised Antonio! Doesn’t Antonio _know_?” Feliciano tearfully pressed on. Lovino sighed.

“No, you’re the first one I told. Well, except for Mom and Dad. I made them promise not to tell you because I knew you’d fucking act like this. You aren’t a damn baby!” Lovino rolled his eyes.

“You did not inform Antonio?” Jae-soo queried. She wrung the sponge into the sink, her brows lowered. “You and Antonio are a couple, so why does he not know about this? I was sure you had informed him before he left.”

“We are _not_ a couple. We were fuck buddies for a month. Antonio would never be serious about me,” Lovino muttered as he shoved more miscellaneous crap into a box.

“Don’t say that, Lovi! Antonio loves you!”

“He didn’t ONCE fucking say that to me, Feli! So shut the hell up! You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, okay?! SHUT UP,” Lovino finally bellowed, red faced. He rubbed at his face with his fist. “Stop fucking talking about him, okay? I’ve been signed up for this trip for seven months, Feli.”

Feliciano sniffled. “I still think you’re wrong about Antonio, Lovi. I don’t care so much that you didn’t tell me about Paris; I care more about you not trusting Antonio. Why couldn’t he be in love with you?”

“I said _stop fucking talking about him_ ,” Lovino snarled, teeth bared. Jae-soo set the sponge down and wiped her hands dry.

“Feliciano, you should call the boys for help. It will be easier on all of us if Gilbert, Ludwig, and Francis help move these boxes to storage,” Jae-soo suggested diplomatically. Feliciano nodded and fled to room.

“Thank you, Jae-soo.”

“I agree with Feliciano.”

Lovino glanced up, startled. Jae-soo shrugged and picked up a shirt to fold neatly into the last suitcase destined for Paris. They were going to be leaving that night, and all her things were already packed and waiting neatly in the hallway.

“I will not pry or ask questions. I will not even mention his name and I will never bring this topic up for debate again. I will concisely state my opinion now. I believe you should have told him about the year in Paris. I also believe there is more to the two of you than… _fuck buddies_. He looks at you as if you are everything he ever wanted, as if you are all that exists in his world. Perhaps you do not see it, but anyone looking on, even a blind man, could see that you belong together.”

Lovino looked down, fists digging into a one hundred dollar silk blouse. He breathed slowly, in and out, and released the cloth. “Maybe _he’s_ the one that doesn’t fucking notice, because he never once said that he felt that way about me. He’s talked about wanting me physically. Damn, I _know_ he lusts for me, but love? That’s different, Jae-soo. And that’s what I want. I thought I just wanted the fucking sex, too, but I don’t. It hurt like shit, touching him and knowing there was a time limit. Sure, maybe he’d still want me at Christmas, maybe we’d be together a whole fucking year, but in the end, it would be just sex. You were seeing things.”

Jae-soo reached out to touch Lovino’s hand gently, for barely a moment, and then continued folding clothes.

Lovino smiled bitterly. Was it sad that he could believe the nasty bitter things so much easier than the hopeful pretty things?

It seemed like a matter of moments rather than hours before Lovino was at the airport. The Beilschmidts, Feli, and Francis had come to see him off, but all of them were frowning. Well, Feli was sobbing. Jae-soo had run to the restroom, being pragmatic and efficient she always tried to use the restroom before travelling. Lovino sighed in relief as she strode towards them. She was the only one that wasn’t pissed off at him. Even Ludwig was pissed off because he had made Feli cry. Lovino gawked when he noticed the large, imposing man at Jae-soo’s heels. Gilbert stepped forward, looking even angrier than before. Of course, the tall, fair-haired stranger with the strange, cheerful smile looked intimidating just standing there. Being Gilbert, however, meant having zero fear.

“Jae-soo, who’s this bastard following you?”

“He is not a bastard. He helped me a moment ago and I agreed to lead him to his gate. He does not read or speak Italian well. He is Russian.”

“My name is Ivan Braginski. You lovely girlfriend helps me out well, da? I not know how find my plane, however I teach… ah, I _learn_ that lovely girlfriend goes to Paris, too,” Ivan explained in the worst Italian Lovino had ever heard. Even Jae-soo’s Korean-accented Italian wasn’t as bad as that.

“His English is much better,” Jae-soo said with an apologetic shrug towards Lovino.

“Yes. I English speak very well,” Ivan agreed.

Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. “Jae-soo, you call me if anything funny happens.”

“I will be in a plane. After that, I will be in Paris.”

“Berlin isn’t so far from Paris.” Jae-soo stared at him until he laughed out loud. “I mean it, I will come if you need me. This guy is frickin’ weird.”

“I understand you, da?”

“I meant you to. She’s my friend, so if you do anything freaky and I find out, I’ll come after you,” Gilbert warned in clear English.

“You have very protective friends,” Ivan told Jae-soo with a smile, also in English.

“Don’t worry, Gilbert, I’ll watch Jae-soo’s back. I’m her friend, too,” Lovino reassured Gilbert. He couldn’t really blame Gilbert for being protective. This Russian guy was pretty… strange… somehow. And Jae-soo had opened up to him too easily. Normally, Jae-soo wouldn’t even talk to strangers, let alone help one out. “We better hurry if we want to get through security.”

Jae-soo and Ivan nodded. Lovino hugged his brother and Antonio’s two friends. Feliciano and Gilbert both fell on top of Jae-soo, hugging her and kissing her cheeks. She bore it with a resigned scowl and a scarlet face. Then, Lovino, Jae-soo, and the random stranger named Ivan walked towards the security gates with passports in hand.

…………..

Paris was freezing that year. The snow was mostly sleet and the roads were paved in ice. Inside the little flat over the Laundromat, Lovino put ornaments on the tree Jae-soo and he had bought and Ivan had dragged it up the stairs. Somehow, the Russian and Jae-soo had not only become friends in an amazingly short amount of time, but also… well, not quite lovers, but Lovino doubted Jae-soo would hold out for long. He remembered their plane ride and shuddered. He doubted Ivan would let Jae-soo leave Paris, actually. That guy had a crazy possessive streak.

Lovino shook the thoughts out his head. The Russian _had_ grown on him, after all. He took both of them out to expensive French restaurants, always brought over enough candies for the roommates to share, and always invited Lovino to watch movies with them. He wasn’t so bad, even if he was a little creepy sometimes. Lovino whistled and put on another blue glass globe. Behind him, Jae-soo walked in wearing a knee-length skirt and showing off the gorgeous black silk stockings she had bought in Rome months ago. Lovino looked over his shoulders at her footsteps and grinned.

“Wow, Jae-soo, I didn’t know you had such sexy legs. I bet they love being shown off.”

“They hate feeling naked actually,” Jae-soo snapped. She smoothed her hands down her skirt, frowning. “You are positive this is decent? I feel so… so _in_ decent exposing my underwear.”

“Stockings are _not_ underwear. Besides, they were, what, twenty dollars? They’re made from real silk and have that pretty embroidery up the side. They’re supposed to be shown off. Just don’t flash your panties at anyone and you’re decent.”

“Lovino!” He laughed and before long she joined in. The doorbell rang and Jae-soo’s laughter cut off abruptly as her face paled.

“This is my first Christmas Eve date, Lovino. This is my first date ever, really. What if I ruin it?”

“You can’t ruin a first date. They’re already fucked from the start. You and Ivan have been technically dating for months anyway.”

“No, we have not! He only asked me out last week.”

 Lovino walked over, grasped her shoulders, and wheeled her around towards the front door. “You’re already ruining shit if you keep him waiting.” The doorbell rang again.

“You can stop now. I am going!” Jae-soo protested. Lovino released her, chuckling, and walked back to the living room.

He bent down for another box of ornaments as Jae-soo left the apartment. Her footsteps faded down the stairs to the front door of the building where Ivan was waiting in the cold. Good thing he was Russian. Lovino could bet it was a lot colder there. He hummed a Christmas carol as he placed another ornament. Memories of Christmases past played through his thoughts as he took out old ornaments his mother had let him keep when he moved out for college. One of them was made of fired clay and painted by his own hand. He smiled at the colors. The thing was hideous. He had been ten and wild for Antonio at this point, so he had used his and Antonio’s favorite colors. Antonio had actually helped him and they had ended up making a total mess and taking a bath together afterwards in their swimming trunks.

His fingers tightened around the simple, stupid object that represented so much. He hooked it on a branch, but couldn’t seem to let go. A great metaphor really. Stupid philosophy class. He kept seeing symbology everywhere. Next, he’d find meaning in his hot cocoa.

His shoulders shook as he struggled not to cry. If there was a God, or a Santa, he didn’t fucking care which, he wished they would bring him Antonio. Hopefully an Antonio that was as madly in love with him as Lovino was with Antonio. Maybe with a diamond ring and a proposal on bended knee, too. Since he was making impossible wishes already, he might as well go all out. Maybe afterwards, Antonio would sweep him off his feet and they would make passionate love and whisper ‘I love you’ after every kiss. Yeah, that was sappy and impossible enough. What else could he wish for?

Lovino laughed and wiped at his face, glad that Jae-soo had left before he had become morbid. He’d been morbid enough around his best friend.

Lovino finally let go of the ornament and fiddled with it until it hung just right. “There, perfect.”

“I’ve never seen anything more perfect, _mi amore_.”

Lovino froze, his fingers still on the ornament.

“I can remember something similar though. There was a little boy under a lilac tree. He was singing a duet, a love song, all by himself and eating cookies. I think he was also reading a stolen _Vogue_ magazine. There was summer sunlight all around him and his eyes were even more golden than the sun when he looked at me. And you know what he said? ‘ _Where the hell did you come from?_ ’ Fusososososo~”

It couldn’t be. But who else had that stupid, idiotic laugh? Who else saw him in the bushes that day? Who else heard him say just those words eleven years ago?

“All I could think was ‘perfect.’ This was the angel meant for me, me alone. I wanted you so bad and I didn’t even understand what it meant. I didn’t understand how exactly I felt until I was seventeen years old and you were so close I could smell you. I ran away, Lovi, because I was scared. I think I told you that. You were dangerous to me, because you bring out this darkness in me. I wanted to take you away and eat you up. I didn’t want anyone else to have you, to touch you, or love you. It wasn’t fair to you. I wanted you to be able to grow and experience things and fall in love like you should. I had laid a claim on you when you were so damn young. I felt like I was caging you and I didn’t want you to hate me for it later.”

Lovino’s hands curled into fists. “You st-stupid-”

“Wait, wait just one more moment, _mi amore_. Then, you can yell at me all you want.”

Lovino turned as Antonio stepped forward, the footstep on wooden floorboards breaking through the ice that held him in place.

And it really was him in all his dark, beautiful glory. Tall, lean, the colors of coffee and chocolate and stunning, brilliant emerald. Lovino felt his heart thump and tumble to the floor at Antonio’s feet. Just in a few moments, he had fallen in love all over again. He shivered as Antonio neared, his eyes locked on his. He could see it, the darkness Antonio said he had, that Lovino brought out. But if Antonio was scared of it, Lovino wasn’t. He reveled in it. _Look at me more_ , his mind pleaded. _Look at me like that every day, all the damn time._

“I can’t, though. I can’t let you go.” Dark fingers touched Lovino’s face and both sighed at the touch. Lovino leaned against his fingertips, nuzzling Antonio’s palm with his nose. “When I said this summer “it won’t end there,” I didn’t mean sex, you blind, stupid, lovely idiot.”

Lovino frowned. “What?”

“Well, it did partially mean sex, but that wasn’t it.” Antonio grinned crookedly. “I meant once I had you, I wouldn’t be able to give you up. I’ve been wanting you so long, Lovi, now that I have you, I’m addicted. I need you,” Antonio’s eyes darkened further. “The idea of you being with anyone else… of them touching you like I did, seeing what I saw when you were writhing under me…” Antonio’s free hand clenched before he visibly calmed himself. “I’m not a very nice person when I think about it. Nor am I very forgiving.”

Lovino scowled, blushing brightly. “Why couldn’t you tell me this summer? I thought… You never said anything like that to me. I never …you… you still haven’t said…” Lovino broke off, unable to string a coherent sentence together. Finally, he looked away, his cheeks puffed out angrily. “It’s still fucking not enough. It’s not enough to want or need. I don’t want to be a damn possession you can get tired of. I want something better,” Lovino muttered as the stray curl on his head crinkled.

Antonio reached out and smoothed the curl out, smiling softly. Lovino felt his insides melt and he had to painfully pull himself together when Antonio spoke. “I know. You already told me how you feel, Lovi.”

Lovino paled and his eyes widened. “Wh-What?”

“You told me, that night you cried. I didn’t ask about it later because I thought I understood why. But maybe I didn’t understand enough. I wanted to get you something, something that would last. Something you would believe more than words.”

Antonio fished in his pocket and Lovino stared with horrified eyes. _Did I really say it during sex? Of all times? Oh shitshitshit._ All horror ended, though, when Antonio pulled out a black velvet box that was worn bare at the corners.

Lovino fell to his knees. “Don’t-Don’t f-fucking play with m-me about this, Antonio,” Lovino stammered, staring as Antonio’s knees.

“Lovi? Are you okay?” Antonio knelt next to him, black box placed on the ground. His green eyes were slightly panicked.

“What’s in the fucking box?”

“Wait, you’re really pale. I should-”

“WHAT’S IN THE FUCKING BOX?”

Antonio winced, then grabbed the box. He flipped it open. Inside was a thin silver band with a rectangular-cut diamond, a princess-cut, in the middle. It was simple, elegant, and _old_. Lovino could tell. He also recognized it. He had met Antonio’s mother once. She had come to meet Mrs. Vargas one summer because her son had spent so much time in Italy. Lovino had only been twelve, but had instantly been struck with how like her son Mrs. Carriedo was, or should that be the other way around? On her left hand and second to last finger had been a gold ring with a large circle diamond encircled by tiny emeralds the exact shade as hers, and Antonio’s, eyes. Next to that ring was this very one Antonio held out. It was an engagement ring that had been passed down the Carriedo line since the time of the Spanish Inquisition, maybe even longer.

“Will you marry me, Lovino? We’ll wait till you’ve graduated and found a career, of course, but Madrid has a lot of fashion, right? If not, I’ll see about my father switching back to Madrid and I’ll take over the French branch. This isn’t very, uh, stylish, I guess, but we Carriedo men always give it to our brides- er, well, fiancé may be a better word for now,” Antonio babbled on nervously as Lovino stared.

Lovino slapped his hand over Antonio’s mouth and then took the ring. He slid it onto his finger and it actually fit. It was a little tight over the knuckle, but it was perfect.

“W-Wait, you haven’t said yes. Does this mean yes?”

“The words,” Lovino choked, then cleared his throat. He clutched his left hand and glanced up at Antonio, amber eyes still wide and astonished. “I want the words first.”

Antonio blinked and then grinned sheepishly. “I forgot to say them? I love you, Lovino. I thought that was obvi-OOF.”

Lovino flung himself on top of Antonio, sending them sprawling to the floor. “ _Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo,”_ Lovino laughed, kissing Antonio’s mouth, his cheeks, his eyebrows, his mouth again. His arms wrapped around him as Antonio laughed.

“ _Ay Dios mio_! You really know how to make a guy work at it,” Antonio managed to get out. He cupped Lovino’s face, gazing up into amber eyes. “ _Te amo, mi corazon, mi amore, mi todo_.” Antonio whispered, tracing Lovino’s cheekbones with his thumb. Lovino blushed red.

“Did I really tell you I loved you while we were having sex?”

“ _Si, mi amore_. I was well and truly loved that night. We should definitely have a repeat,” Antonio laughed. Lovino punched his shoulder, making him groan and wince.

“Well, let’s go right now,” Lovino muttered, kissing where he’d punched.

“I would love to _, mi corazon,_ but we have guests.”

“WHAT?” Lovino squawked, struggling to get to his feet.

“No, no, not in the house! Calm down! They’re waiting outside. I think there is a coffee shop across the street, they are waiting there. I was supposed to call Feli when I either left or you said yes. He really wanted a Christmas with us all together,” Antonio quickly explained. Lovino groaned.

“How about a quickie?”

Antonio laughed again, his sides aching. “No, _mi amore_ , we will have the rest of our lives to make love. Let us spend today with our friends.”

“How long exactly are we talking about between now and the making love part?” Lovino asked with a glare. Antonio grinned.

“We also have all night. We will use every moment. I have missed you, too.” Antonio placed his hand behind Lovino’s head and pulled him down. “For now, _besame_.”

Lovino laughed as Antonio used his favorite Spanish word against him. They pressed together, ravenous and craving, soft and sweet, then hard and possessive. They barely stopped for breath. As they drank each other in, Lovino couldn’t help but remember a question he had asked himself seven years ago.

_Maybe love tasted like Antonio’s skin?_

Sure, why couldn’t it?

 

 

 


End file.
